


Cheap Purple Dress

by the_tilly



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asphyxiation, Barebacking, Batjokes, Biting, Bottom Joker, Bruce Wayne Has Feelings, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Collars, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, John Doe vibes, Joker is a flirt, Joker is also a liar, Light Angst, Light BDSM, M/M, Marking, Multi, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Prostitution, Protective Bruce Wayne, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sharing a kink is hot, Top Bruce Wayne, lots of flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-01-06 15:31:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18391223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_tilly/pseuds/the_tilly
Summary: Batman inadvertently gets an informant via a prostitute named Joker. Things go about how you expect them to.OR, the Batman AU where Joker is a hooker, and Batman has feelings for him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in an alternate universe in which Joker never becomes Batman's villain but he still had his acid bath.  
> 

The streets of Gotham were known for a lot of things. Mainly that only criminals of every breed walk the streets and any sane citizen stays indoors. Unless it was one of the few high-end areas, primarily the streets near the Wayne Tower. Businessmen and women liked to frequent the bars after work in order to relieve their daily stress.

It was one of the few safe, highly populated areas in Gotham that someone could walk around without much worry. That was until Oswald Cobblepot built his Iceberg Lounge right in the middle of the district.

Now there was no where safe in Gotham from criminals. When Bruce had started as Batman it seemed that crime was going down for the first time in decades. But in the last two years, it was becoming worse. Oswald was just the next criminal in a long line that formed.

Bruce had been scoping the Iceberg Lounge out as his daytime and nighttime personas. Bruce, as an interested businessman who is looking to get in a partnership with an up and coming market. Batman, as the detective looking for why so many people who go into the building with known criminal histories, and sometimes not come out.

He had staked the place out for nearly two months, and tonight was his last go at it before he tried another, more direct approach. Something that could land Batman in hot water with Gordon, which wasn’t something Bruce was looking forward to.

Bruce watched the windows intently, as he saw Oswald lead a group of men into the back room. Bruce was ready to move, when something small hit the side of his cowl. Startled by the unexpected blow, Bruce lurched back, ducking behind the half-wall on the roof he had been perched on.

“Don’t run away,” called a voice. “I was only trying to see if you were a statue.”

Bruce debated on showing himself to whoever it was, or not. He frowned, touching the side of his cowl where a small pebble had struck him. Even with Bruce concentrating on the windows, no one should have been able to sneak up on him.

Whoever it was, wasn’t important. Bruce had to keep watching Oswald.

He moved quickly to the adjacent building, only taking a glance at the figure below.

It was a man, in a skin tight latex purple dress, thigh high black boots, and tacky orange pleather gloves. Bruce had to take another look when he landed in his new safe spot to ensure he was seeing this person correctly.

The man was still looking up at the roof where Bruce was before, hands on his slim hips, and tapping a foot as though impatient. His green, curly hair stuck out against pale skin that couldn’t possibly be natural. The shadows were far too heavy to make out any features on the man’s face, but Bruce could see a sharp chin, and nose angling out. The man stomped his foot, shrugged his boney shoulders, and walked back to the street.

Bruce watched the man exaggerate his hip movements, and the dress ride dangerously high, nearly exposing what lay beneath.

Bruce was spotted by a Hooker.

Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose through his cowl. He was fortunate that it wasn’t one of Oswald’s men. His stakeout and work for the last two months would have been wasted if they did. But that didn’t mean Bruce had to gracefully accept who had caught sight of him.

He made a mental note to keep a better watch next time and went back to his work.

 The following night Bruce perched at the same spot where he was able to watch the entryway and the hall leading to the back room. By the time he was set in place, he had completely forgotten about the man in the cheap purple dress who had hit him with a small rock.

It was Bruce’s mistake as two hours into his watch, where Oswald was greeting guests to his lounge, he felt something hit his shoulder.

Bruce moved instinctually behind cover, just as another rock went sailing over his head.

“Hey!” called the voice. “Stop being so shy and show yourself.”

It was the man from the night before. Bruce groaned internally at being caught twice by the same person. Doing it once was impressive, twice was noteworthy.

“You know… I only bite if you pay me for that,” the man said teasingly. “Come out you overgrown rodent.”

Bruce knew it was bait. But that didn’t stop him from sneaking up behind the man, who was still looking up at the rooftop.

“I’m not a rat,” Bruce said, making the man jump.

The man spun around, a hand over his heart, and his ruby red painted lips were stretched into a wide smile. This close, Bruce could see the dark purple eye shadow heavily applied, and the black mascara over his already unnaturally long lashes. In the street light, he looked garish.

Bruce had a passing thought this might be why the man had so much time to pick on him. He probably didn’t have a lot of clients.

“Well,” began the man, as his eyes scanned Bruce from top to bottom. “I can see you’re certainly a man underneath all that.”

“I’m not a client,” Bruce said, glaring as the man touched his chest. Due to the armor, he didn’t feel the touch, but he didn’t want it there.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the man said, his head tilting as he looked Bruce in the eye. “You’re trying to spy on old bird-brain in there.”

Bruce was surprised for the second time. Not many people outside Oswald’s close circle knew his nickname of Penguin. It could be a coincidence. If the man hadn’t also snuck up on Bruce twice, and had an odd confidence about him.

“What do you know?” Bruce demanded, his hand capturing the wrist of the offending limb. The man only came closer, not at all intimidated by Bruce’s presence.

“Oh, I know lots of things,” the man said in a playful tone. His free hand now dancing across Bruce’s chest. “I’m sure you’re aware people of my profession require payment for services.”

“If you don’t tell me, more people could die,” Bruce said, his voice dropping, and he batted the other hand away. The other man raised an eyebrow.

“Who says people are dying now?” he countered, his grin turning sly. “Two months on the stake out, and you still haven’t a clue!”

Bruce wanted to put the man to a wall, demand answers, threaten him like he did the criminals he found. What stopped him was the feeling of the very breakable wrist under his hand, and Bruce didn’t know if the man was a criminal or not.

He certainly looked like a sex worker and acted like one. It was illegal in Gotham to solicit sex for money, but they weren’t the criminals Bruce went after. They were people desperate to survive, and usually the victim. This man also wasn’t offering Bruce sex for money, but information.

The man had also silently been observing Bruce for two months without Bruce knowing. He was dangerous. Bruce released the captive wrist as a truce. The man removed his hands, and set them on his hips, waiting.

“What do you want in return for your information?” Bruce asked. He had plenty of money to spare, and it was worth the cost to save lives.

“Ah, now we’re negotiating!” The man practically squealed in delight.

“Keep it down,” Bruce hissed. Bruce flinched against the sound, looking to see if anyone noticed, but no one seemed to. The people of Gotham learned not to glance down darken alleyways.

The man made a surprised face and raised his fingers to his lips. His eyes looked towards the street, then back at Bruce.

“Sorry, I get excited sometimes,” the man said with a shrug. “You need information though, and I have it. The question is, how much is it worth to you?”

“How much do you want?” Bruce asked.

The man whistled lowly.

“A real moneybags, huh? Well, I’m not interested in your money I’ll have you know,” the man said with a smile. “You got a reputation around the streets. Stopping muggings, purse snatching, and murders. You protect people, and you make the big bad gangs around here practically shit themselves at your name.”

Bruce was surprised once more. His felt his shoulders relax at the compliments. He didn’t know what the people on the street thought of him, just what Gordon had told him, and a few criminals who scream when they see him. It was nice to know some people recognized him doing some good.

“So, here’s the deal Bats,” the man said. “You patrol the corner I work at least once a week to keep the lower scum away, and I’ll pass you information from time to time.”

“You want protection?”

“Just an appearance. No need to come down to the street and give the birds and bees talk,” the man said with a smile. “I can handle that myself.”

“I bet,” Bruce said, crossing his arms, and thinking.

The ask wasn’t much. Bruce could easily adjust his normal patrol schedule to swing by the area, make sure one or two people saw him. The issue was doing it on a routine, which would make him far too predictable, easily cornered. It was still a small ask, and it would potentially keep this man safe.

He was rail thin and looked vulnerable.

“If your information is accurate…” Bruce started. “You have a deal.”

The man grinned wide and clasped his hands together.

“Knew you’d be interested,” The man said, delighted. “Now, here’s what you need to know.”

The man explained in detail how Oswald had built an entrance to the old Gotham tunnels below the city. His men would smuggle items through the tunnels, out the other side near the river, and return with new merchandise once completed. The meetings were nothing more than negotiations for profits over the items, and if Bruce wanted to stop the source, he had to go to the docks where the old tunnels let out.

Bruce listened to it all, working out how to pull the city plans for the tunnels in order to remove their usability. Perhaps with time he could have them repurposed for getting around the city faster himself. Then another thought crossed his mind when the man finished.

“How do you know all of this?” Bruce questioned.

“How do you think?” the man raised an eyebrow. “Men around here are loud mouths in bed. Especially when they think they’ll impress me with their ranking in Gotham’s underworld.”

“Why would they want to impress you?”

“Honey, who _doesn’t_ want to impress me?” the man asked with a laugh. It was high pitched, completely freeing, and joyful. People turned to look down the alleyway this time, hurrying off when they caught a glimpse of who was down there.

Bruce dragged the man around the corner to hide from the public and glared at him as he covered his mouth once more.

“Oops,” he said with a giggle. “Forgot.”

“Where is your typical spot?” Bruce asked.

“Park street and 4th,” he answered. “You gonna swing around sometime?”

“Depends on how the night goes,” Bruce replied, pointing his grappling hook up to the roof. “What’s your name?”

“Joker,” answered the man, his grin widening. “Charmed to meet you Bats.”

Bruce didn’t respond as he grappled up to the roof, then made his way down to the docks. It only took a few blocks for Bruce to shake off the feeling of being near the man, Joker. There was something about him that Bruce couldn’t put a finger on. Something dangerous, yet childlike in the man. A complete contradiction.

He put Joker out of his mind and worked to solve the case. By the time he was asking Alfred to lead him through the old tunnels, his thoughts were drawn back to the man as he noticed something was missing from his belt. A single batarang was gone, and the pocket was left undone.

The only person who got close enough to snatch one was Joker.

Bruce could only grind his teeth in agitation as he was near his two-month goal. He also let out his frustrations on the thugs who were unlucky enough to work the night shift for Oswald. Overall, it was a successful night.

It was a week before Bruce saw Joker again.

He wanted to cross the man the very next day but a wound to his shoulder prevented him from being able to physically put on the suit for a few days. Bruce was anxious to find out what the man had done with the batarang. It was a signature of Batman to use, and Bruce made sure to collect every one of them before leaving if possible. The cops collected the ones he left behind, and Bruce had counted every single one of them.

He didn’t need someone to end up in the hospital, an innocent person, with a batarang in their leg, or chest. It would point in the wrong direction and Bruce would have to deal with the fallout. Or worse, someone being killed by one of his weapons.

That wasn’t a thought he wanted to explore.

He also grew concerned when he was called by Gordon before patrol. There was a new criminal in town who liked to leave riddles behind at his robberies. Bruce wasn’t looking forward to dealing with a new criminal who thought he was so clever he could purposefully leave a clue behind. He brought the riddle to the bat cave and quickly solved it.

Gotham Museum.

But there was no date, time, or even an indication of what the criminal wanted. Bruce informed Gordon, and the Commissioner sent extra patrol cars for the rest of the week as a precaution. There wasn’t anything else they could do without any more clues.

It left Bruce feeling frustrated.

The first night Bruce could get back into the suit, he did. Which was still too early for his shoulder as it ached every time it was raised. It meant he had to take his car as close as he dared to the streets. He had to rely on his good shoulder to be able to hold his weight when he grappled to the roof and started his patrol.

It only took an hour into his patrol before he spotted the cheap purple dress Joker seemed to prefer, or perhaps the man only owned one item. Joker sauntered down the sidewalk with two women. One was a blonde in pigtails, a tight red dress, and black heels. The other was a red headed woman, green button-down shirt, and jeans with tennis shoes.

The women were linked arm in arm, chatting away while Joker appeared to be idly listening to them. They would occasionally glance at him, and he would respond, only for them to go back to chatting with each other.

The trio made their way closer to Bruce’s hiding spot and he caught their conversation as they neared.

“You think he’s really gonna show?” asked the blonde.

“The clown does make up some tall tales, but this is a new one,” answered the red head.

“I’m always proven right,” snipped Joker. “ _Always_.”

“He’s got a point,” the blonde said with a shrug. “He ain’t told nothing he can’t back up.”

“Except the crocodile man in the sewer,” the red head replied, holding up her fingers to count off her points. “The time he told us he found a fish who could smile but he lost it. Then the time he swore he build a robot clown-"

“ _Captain_ Clown!” Joker interrupted. “He worked hard to earn that title. Living a life on the sea isn’t easy.”

The red head scoffed, pulling at the blonde.

“See what I mean?” she said. “He’s a bit of a story teller. A good one mind you, but still lies through is teeth.”

“You’re just jealous I lead a more exciting life than you,” Joker said, crossing his arms. “And your negativity is probably driving away all my clients. So, off with you two harpies!”

The blonde threw her arms around Joker’s neck, giving him a quick squeeze, then jumped back.

“Don’t wait up for me!” she said with a cheeky wink.

“Wasn’t going to anyways,” Joker grumbled, as the two women walked off. “Why does she always get the friendly clients and I get rude assholes?”

“Might have something to do with your personality,” Bruce said, causing Joker to turn.

Joker’s sour mood instantly went away, and he grinned.

“What’s with the critique?” Joker asked, though he didn’t look bothered in the least. “My little tip paid off well, I hear. Two dozen of Birdie’s goons got thrown in the slammer, and the Pot himself is pulled in for questioning.”

“It did,” Bruce admitted, and he turned towards the corner the girls disappeared down. “Who were they?”

Joker scowled.

“Harley is the blonde. Another worker. The red head is Pam something. Pam is Harley’s number one client, and if Harley gets her way, girlfriend,” Joker supplied. “But who wants to talk about those two? I want to know how your night went, and why you’ve grown shy again.”

“Had a few things to wrap up,” Bruce said, not wanting Joker to know he was injured. Bruce didn’t know why but he felt that might be unwise.

“So…” Joker began, stepping closer to Bruce’s hiding spot in the shadow of the alley. Joker leaned against the brick wall, with his eyes able to see the street, and Bruce. Joker was scanning the few passing cars for clients most likely. “How long you plan on staying around here?”

“Just until you give me back my batarang,” Bruce answered.

Joker didn’t even deny it, just grinned, and let out a short laugh. His head was thrown back, and Bruce could see the tendons in his throat, leading down to his nearly exposed chest. The dress was obscenely tight, and Bruce prevented his eyes from traveling any lower least he finds out what religion Joker is.

“That’s what you call them?” Joker teased, a hand tucking into his thigh high boot, and pulling out the small blade. He played with it between his fingers, smiling. “It fits so snuggly in my boot. Can’t I keep it?”

“No.”

“Party pooper,” Joker said with a pout, holding out the batarang to Bruce. Bruce took it quickly and tucked it into the pouch where it belonged. Joker shifted against the wall. “So, what other toys you got in there?”

Bruce glared.

“You’re not stealing any more of my equipment,” Bruce growled. “If you’re caught with any of it, or it finds its way into a crime scene, I’m the one who will take the fall.”

“Sheesh!” Joker held up his hands. “I get it. Hands off the merchandise. I can respect that, though I do want you to know…” A smile curled at his lips, as he whispered, “If I ever left a crime scene, I’d never leave evidence behind.”

Bruce felt something in his gut drop and knew Joker wasn’t lying. For how thin, waifish, and odd the man was, there was a confidence. An iron will behind him that was easy to see. He walked as though he owned the place. It took a certain type of person to do that.

He also snuck up on Bruce twice, watched him for months without notice, and stole a batarang from him. Not to mention he knew Oswald’s smuggling route. There was no doubt in Bruce’s mind that Joker was capable of something devious.

“Well, before you leave to brood, or whatever it is you do, I have another tip for you,” Joker said. “I hear there’s a new guy in town leaving poems or riddles at his crime scenes.”

Bruce was starting to wonder how fast news travels on the street if Joker had heard about the criminal before Batman was informed. The riddles haven’t been leaked to the press, and no one other than eye witnesses should know about them.

“What makes you think that?” Bruce asked.

Joker grinned.

“Let’s say a little birdie told me,” Joker let out a small laugh. “I don’t know much, but I do know he left his next target in whatever clue was at the bank. Hit is supposed to take place in two days and something about a vent.”

“Jo _ker_ ,” Bruce began slowly. There was only a few ways Joker would know this, and Bruce hoped the man wasn’t personally involved with the criminal.

“Bat _man_ ,” Joker mocked back. He shrugged his shoulders. “You hear a lot when you live with the lower lot. I did promise you whatever information I learned, I’d pass your way, didn’t I?”

He had. Bruce didn’t expect it to be exactly what he needed in order to solve current cases. Drug deals, smaller criminal plans, they were expected. Not the high-end crime. It made Bruce wonder exactly who Joker’s clients were.

Joker grinned at Bruce, then lolled his head around as a green car slowly pulled up to the curb. A thin man in a suit that made him look like any of the many businessmen just leaving work, was inside. He appeared impatient, waving the Joker over.

“That’s my cue, Bats,” Joker whispered. “See you on the other side.”

“Stay safe,” Bruce offered as he watched Joker saunter over to the car.

“It’d be easier if I had a batarang in my boot,” Joker said cheekily over his shoulder.

Joker opened the door, plopping in, barely reaching for his seatbelt before the driver took off. Bruce was tempted to follow, to make sure nothing happened. Though, which man he worried for more was the question.

Joker’s tip was accurate, and Bruce ended up capturing a man calling himself the Riddler, who seemed perplexed as to how they figured out his plan. Bruce had found a vent shaft that had a small drone, which Riddler used to bypass the security and turn off the alarms. Once Bruce knew that, he bugged the drone, and just followed it to the master.

Something that would have been impossible without Joker’s tip, much as Bruce hated to admit. He did want to speak to the man though and thank him for the information.

Bruce wouldn’t see Joker for another four days.

Bruce patrolled the area where Joker worked at least once each night. It became easier on his shoulder, as he finally had it properly wrapped under the suit. The nights had also been quieter lately which allowed the wound to heal. Another week and Bruce would have his full mobility back. He still pushed himself to go on patrol every night though.

It had nothing to do with being worried about a certain green haired man.

When he swung into the area, he heard Joker’s laugh, then someone hitting trash cans in the alley. Bruce leapt from the roof onto the nearby fire escape to observe the situation.

Harley, the blonde from the night before, was standing behind Joker. She had a suspicious red mark on her cheek in the shape of a hand and was glaring furiously over Joker’s shoulder at a man who was getting up from the cans. His zipper was undone, and his nose was bleeding profusely.

Joker stood tall, grinning madly.

“Don’t you know, hitting is an extra two hundred at least!” Joker said, tsking, then holding out his hand. “I hope you have the cash.”

“I’m not paying you anything!” The man yelled, clutching at his bleeding nose. “She didn’t even do anything!”

“Oh, she doesn’t have to _do_ anything,” Joker said. “You pay women to lay back and take it. Well, she _took_ a hit from you, and you _owe_ her. So, pay up Baldy.”

 The man, angry enough or just dumb enough not to sense the danger, tried to tackle Joker. Bruce was close to stepping, when Joker easily side stepped the attempt, grabbed the man’s tie, yanked it back, and kicked the man’s feet out from under him. Within a second, Joker had the man on his ass, choking with his own tie.

“Well, that was RUDE,” Joker said. “I suggest you pay the lady now before the prices go up.”

To emphasize his point, Joker tugged at the tie. The man made a gurgling sound, then with one shaky hand pulled out his wallet. He tossed all his cash at Harley, who claimed it all. Joker waited until she counted the money, declaring the man paid with extra. Only then did Joker release the man who was turning an angry purple.

“I hope this teaches you to treat my girl with respect next time,” Joker said.

The man crawled out of the alley, coughing, and cursing. They all watched him leave, and Bruce relaxed in his hiding spot. He didn’t know who he was going to have to stop and was glad he didn’t have to.

“Take the night off,” Joker said.

“I got bills to pay,” Harley pouted, stuffing the money into her bra. “Sure, this will pay the day, but rent is coming up.”

“You were with Pam last night, that should be rent,” Joker pointed out. Harley looked away, and Joker slapped his forehead. “You’re not charging her, are you?”

“We have a good thing going,” Harley argued. “I don’t want business to ruin it, you know?”

“Then tell her you’re having money problems. Girlfriends help with that, or so I’m told,” Joker replied, his hands dropping to Harley’s shoulders. “You go around with a mark like that, and guys will think it’s a sign they can do the same. Go home and put some ice on it.”

“I can handle a few smacks,” Harley protested.

Joker’s hands tightened on her shoulders.

“If anyone hits you again,” He began, his voice low, and angry. “I’m going to _gut_ them. Then we’ll _both_ be out of work for the night. Got it?”

“G-got it, Mr. J,” she replied, shaking at his anger. She grabbed her dropped purse from the ground and started walking away quickly. She only paused before turning the corner, looking back, only to be glared at. Then she disappeared from the corner.

“You could have been nicer,” Bruce commented as he dropped in.

Joker didn’t even flinch this time.

“She’s a smart kid but sometimes she can be so dumb,” Joker said, then sighed. He turned towards Bruce and smiled. “Speaking of, how was your night?”

“Not as eventful as yours,” Bruce said.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Joker teased, coming closer, and running a finger across Bruce’s chest. “I’m sure I could make it _eventful_ if you wanted me to.”

“Not needed,” Bruce said harshly, stepping back. The last time he allowed the man so close he ended up missing a batarang. Bruce was half tempted to check his belt for anything missing.

Joker grinned at his retreating form.

“Still wary of me?” Joker teased. “Rather mean of you, especially after I got that hot tip for you.”

Joker turned away as a limo pulled up.

A woman emerged from the expensive car wearing a tailored pinstripe black suit, white fur lining the collar, and a silk button down underneath. She glanced around the street as though looking for possible enemies, then approached Joker who stayed casually leaning against the wall near the alley entry.

Batman pulled further into the shadows, keeping close enough to listen in, especially as two armed men flanked the woman.

“I told you, you'd be back,” Joker said confidently, shrugging and Bruce could hear the smile that was no doubt on his lips.

“You’re coming with me for the night,” the woman said. “But if you decide to wander around like last time, you won't be leaving in one piece. Understood?”

“Absolutely,” Joker responded, nodding. “Cash, upfront, like always my dear, and we can be on our way.”

Bruce watched as the woman handed over at least two thousand dollars to Joker, who tucked the bills into his boots. Joker allowed himself to be led by the men into the limo, but right before he got in, he turned. Bruce isn't sure how Joker found him in the dark, but their eyes connected for a moment and Joker gave him a wink.

Bruce would never admit it made his heart leap.

He spent the night looking over files from news papers and arrest records. He was sure he had seen that woman before, especially since she kept armed men at her side. It only took an hour to discover the woman was Sofia Falcone. Crime boss known for tactical attacks and sheer ruthlessness.

Bruce spent the next seventeen hours worrying about Joker's safety.

Bruce arrived earlier than Joker, waiting impatiently for the man's arrival. Bruce patrolled the area, trying to spot Joker leaving from wherever it is that he lived. He only discovered he somehow missed Joker, when he came back to the spot, and Joker was already there, pressed against the wall, waiting.

“Do you know who your client was last night?” Bruce asked without any greetings.

“I do,” Joker answered, his head tilting towards Batman in the shadows. “Question is, do you know what she has in her schedule for next week?”

Bruce paused, tempted by the offer. From everything he learned about Falcone, he knew he had to plan ahead when dealing with her. Anything Joker could offer would assist but that was only if he was telling the truth.

“What about the money she paid you?” Bruce asked.

“Always the money with you,” Joker teased, grinning. “What are you, some kind of prostitute?”

Bruce grabbed Joker by the arm and pulled him into the alley. Joker didn't even look intimidated, just smiling at Bruce's frustration.

“This is serious,” Bruce stressed. “She's a dangerous person. She had armed men on you yesterday. If she finds out you told me anything she’ll have you killed.”

Joker tilted his head and frowned.

“You're… you're actually _worried_ about me?” Joker asked, his voice lowered as though in awe.

Bruce loosened his grip on Joker's arm. He couldn't take the genuine awe on Joker's face. It hurt too much to think no one had expressed concern for him before. Not even Harley, who Joker had defended so easily the day before.

Joker pressed a hand to Bruce's chest and smiled when Bruce didn't move away.

“Knew you were a big softie under all that Kevlar,” Joker softly teased. “And don't worry yourself about me. I can handle myself. You should be worried about what Miss. Falcone is up to.”

“What is she planning?” Bruce asked, dreading the answer. His late night read wasn’t encouraging.

“Next Tuesday there's gonna be a blood bath at the White Rose club,” Joker answered. “She’s brought in hired mercenaries. One guy, called Deadshot. He’ll be aiming for Thorne. Everyone else… well... they’re going to wish they stayed home.”

“She’s making a power grab,” Batman whispered to himself.

The two families hated each other but there was usually an understanding between them. When Carmine died, it seems Sofia has no interest in adhering to the unspoken truce. It could create an all-out war in Gotham’s streets.

“I see you’re already working on it,” Joker said, leaning against the wall, and smiling at Bruce. “I guess our night of blissful passion will have to wait.”

Bruce glared at him, but it held no heat. Bruce was starting to get used to Joker’s flirtatious ways. Something he didn’t think was possible.

He knew he had to leave to start working on the plan to stop Falcone, but he hesitated. Joker was by himself on the street, and unlike the times before where he was at least with a client, it seemed he was going to be left alone. Something didn’t feel right at leaving Joker all by himself. Not at night in a bad neighborhood in Gotham.

“Where’s Harley?” Bruce asked.

Joker’s eyes widen slightly at the mention. He turned towards Bruce and there was a slight pause.

“She’s currently enjoying the benefits of having a girlfriend,” Joker answered slowly. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me I’ve been wasting my time on a man who prefers _blondes_.”

“I don’t have a preference,” Bruce said without thinking. He did have one for brunettes, but the words wouldn’t pass his lips. Bruce didn’t want the green haired man to know.

Joker brightened up at his words though.

“Well, neither do I,” Joker replied, and then winked. “On gender either, just so you know. Hair, eyes, privates. Who cares! If you’re fun, I’m in for a good time.”

“I’m not fun,” Bruce said, already cursing himself. He wasn’t sure why he was entertaining the man, other than not wanting him to be left alone. Damn.

Joker threw his head back, laughing at Bruce’s comment. His laugh was almost unsettling, loud, and startling. Joker turned to him, a wide grin on his face, and a hand petting at his chest.

“Oh Bats,” Joker said. “You’re _plenty_ of fun.”

Bruce felt his heart flutter beneath Joker’s fingers. Joker’s lips were closer than Bruce remembered, and his feet felt like lead. Bruce watched in slow motion as Joker closed the gap between them, the sounds of the city faded in the background, their breaths thunderous to Bruce’s ears as his own heart pounded away. There was a gentle huff of warm air against Bruce’s lips, then he felt Joker connect.

But it was to the corner of his mouth. It only lasted a second, and Joker pulled back with an oddly sweet smile. The warmth from Joker’s kiss lingered on Bruce skin like a brand, and it took all his strength not to pull Joker back. To make them kiss properly.

Instead of doing that, Bruce did the only logical thing he could think of. He pulled out his grappling gun and ran away, leaving a cackling Joker behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce isn't proud of how he dealt with Joker. It was childish of him to grapple away when things became complicated. Not to mention the teasing Joker gave him would most likely increased tenfold.

It would be easier to deal with if Bruce didn't feel phantom warmth on the corner of his lips, and a burning in his lower gut. His thoughts would drift from there, wondering what it could be like to capture those full lips in his. What would Joker taste like on his tongue, and look spread out on his bed.

Bruce chastised himself for having those thoughts.

Joker, for all his flirting, seemed to have a somewhat professional interest in Bruce. If he had wanted Bruce in any sexual way, the man was certainly forward enough to make it clear. He also asked for Bruce's protection, something Bruce would never take advantage of.

Bruce could almost taste the irony of not wanting to make Joker uncomfortable.

Bruce also had more important things to worry about. He had found information on Deadshot, who was as formidable as his files suggested. Bruce only had three days to plan around Falcone's plot to murder her competition. Which was easier said than done.

And something he wasn’t using as an excuse to not visit Joker.

The day of the plot came, and luckily, Bruce believed he was ready for it. He had the element of surprise on his side and a working knowledge of the hidden exit to the office. Gordon had a SWAT team waiting outside and two hidden agents tracking Deadshot's movements.

It should have been simple. If someone hadn't set the White Rose on fire in the middle of the raid and threw off Bruce's whole plan.

When the blaze went up, it had suddenly, and without any warning. The place was fine, and then it wasn’t. There was clearly a bomb at work, but Bruce was distracted by trying to get a very uncooperative Throne out of the building.

When the Gordon informed him the Deadshot they were tracking was a decoy, and there was a sting in Bruce’s thigh.

Deadshot hit his target. The bullet passed through the office window, through Bruce’s thigh, and into Thorne’s head, who was cowering on the floor at the time. Bruce could only turn to see the mess, before cursing. He ducked out of the way, moving to try to salvage this as much as he could.

Bruce managed to get everyone outside, while Gordon's men took down the mercenaries. Bruce was coughing, his eyes burning from the smoke, and his movements slowed due to Deadshot getting a bullet through Bruce's left thigh. Only pausing long enough to tie the wound, but it did little to prevent him from still bleeding as he was forced to carry many people out. He begrudgingly accepted the oxygen mask and take a seat while his head spun.

While he was recovering from the smoke and fight, his watery eyes found a purple figure in the crowd. His heart leapt into his throat. Bruce tried to focus, to get a good look, but by the time his eyes cleared, the figure was gone. If it was ever there in the first place.

Bruce was made to recover for four days by Alfred. Bruce knew smoke inhalation wasn't something to shrug off. He could seriously injury himself if he strained his lungs while they healed.

Not to mention the bullet wound throbbed every time the pain killers started fading.

It was getting close to a week since Bruce had last patrolled Joker's area. He made a promise and Joker kept up his side. Bruce just wanted to keep his.

It had nothing to do wanting to see the man again.

Bruce winced when he entered the familiar alleyway. His leg pulsed with pain coming from the stitches wound. It just reminded him why it wasn't smart of him to go out so soon. How foolish he was being. And how Alfred might have been right about at least taking a cane with him.

“I was starting to think I scared you off,” came Joker's voice as the man rounded the corner.

Bruce straightened, not wanting Joker to see him in any pain. He tuned out the ache and focused on Joker's smiling lips. Which was almost as dangerous as the pain.

“I keep my promises,” Bruce said.

Joker made a humming sound and approached. Bruce didn't have the time nor the stability to move away which allowed Joker to crowd his space. Those two hands came up and spread across Bruce's armored chest.

Being so close allowed Bruce to see the details of Joker's face. What Bruce once thought unattractive, he could now see the appeal. Joker possessed a sharp jaw, but it was strong. It balanced out his high cheekbones, and wide eyes. The lashes Bruce once thought had to be fake, he could see were real. They fanned out from his lids, brushing his cheek with each blink.

And Bruce could really see his eyes. Beautifully green with specks of yellow. Like a rolling sea. Bruce could get lost in those.

“You keep looking at me like that, Bats,” Joker began, his smiling teasing but his voice was breathy. “And I'll fall for you.”

That snapped Bruce out of his trance. He took a step away, to remove himself from the warmth of Joker's body, and the intoxicating aroma surrounding him that seemed to ensnare Bruce. In his haste, he forgot about his leg.

“BATS!” Joker shouted, his hands now supporting Bruce who had almost doubled over against the pain.

Bruce hissed through his teeth, knowing between the walking, and the sudden movement he most like tore a stitch or two. He cursed himself for not being more careful. After a few seconds he was able to finally straighten once more.

Joker's worried expression filled his vision and Bruce made a point of wiping off all the pain from his face.

“I'm fine,” Bruce said, his voice a little stiffer than usual.

Joker scowled.

“No, you're not,” he argued. “You’re hurt.”

“It's manageable,” Bruce said through his teeth. His leg was still throbbing and unsteady.

Joker opened his mouth as though to argue when a voice came from the end of the alley.

“Hey, Joker! You here?”

Bruce had never seen the man look so murderous. The hands supporting Bruce clenched for just a moment. A flash of danger. Adrenaline poured into Bruce's blood, ready for an attack, for things to become deadly. Battle song in his ears, and his body thrummed with intent.

It was over in an instant.

Joker's whole body relaxed at though on command, and he turned a fake smile.

“With a client already. You'll have to come back later,” Joker called back, his voice sing song, light. It didn't even give a hint of his previous anger.

“I'll pay you double what they are,” offered the man, clearly not taking the hint.

“You got ten thousand on you _right now_?” asked Joker, his pleasant voice slightly strained now.

The man at the end of the alley cursed viciously, but he obediently turned away, leaving the pair alone in the shadows.

“I'm not a client,” Bruce said.

Joker turned to him; the smile genuine now.

“No, you're not,” he agreed then brought a hand up to cup Bruce's face. “But I don't know what else to call you.”

Bruce would blame the adrenaline still fresh in his veins for this. The pain in his leg for clouding his judgement. The pain killers still circling his body. Anything he could possibly blame other than his own stupidity.

He leaned into the hand on his jaw, watching Joker's pupils expand at the movement.

“How about protector?” Bruce offered.

“Implies I need protection,” Joker said, his voice teasing even as he came a little closer. “Pass.”

“Friend?” Bruce asked, his voice growing rougher.

“For that we'd have to be friendly,” Joker commented, his breath now ghosting over Bruce's lips. Those fingers, still wearing his horrible orange latex gloves, crinkled as they flexed over Bruce's cowl.

“We're friendly,” Bruce said, his hand resting on Joker's hip. He needed the stability at this point as his head started spinning.

“Hmmm,” Joker hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Joker tilted his head, pausing just an inch or two from Bruce's lips. As though waiting for permission. Those long lashes brushed against the cowl, and Bruce wanted to tear it away so he could feel them for himself.

“I think I have it,” Joker said, his voice raspy, and a light shiver went through his body as Bruce gripped his hips. “ _Lover_.”

Bruce surged forward and captured Joker's lips. Every nerve in Bruce's body felt as though it was on fire as they kissed. His nose was filled with Joker's scent, his lips burned at the connection, and his whole being demanded more. It took every ounce of discipline Bruce possessed to not lift Joker up and carry him to Bruce's car.

Bruce shivered against Joker. His own mind imagining Joker splayed out on the hood of the Batmobile. Joker's legs opening, inviting Bruce to him. Joker's skin would contrast heavily against the black armored vehicle. His soft, supple flesh against the metal surface.

Bruce moaned into the kiss, it being swallowed by Joker's beautiful, wide, intoxicating mouth. Bruce parted his lips at the feel of Joker's tongue, and his head spun.

Kissing should not be as arousing as this.

Bruce only parted when Joker pulled back. Their separation only lasted a few moments as Joker used his teeth to grip his glove and yanked his hand free. He carelessly dropped the glove and used his freed hand to caress Bruce's chest.

Joker’s painted black nails scratched the plating of Bruce's armor as his other hand wrapped around the back of Bruce's neck and pulled him into another kiss.

Bruce lost himself in the taste and feel of Joker. His gloved hands roaming up and down Joker's hips, griping them each time Joker's teeth kneaded at Bruce's lips. Bruce would worry about Joker's already indecently short dress exposing what little it covered, if they weren't tucked away in a private corner of the alley. Where prying eyes wouldn't see how desperate the Dark Knight was for this man.

Bruce felt Joker's hand grab his wrist and tugged it until Bruce's hand was now on Joker's ass. Bruce moaned into Joker's lips which were pulled into a cocky smile. Bruce decided to get back at him and dipped his fingers lower until they caressed teasingly under the dress.

The whine that Joker let out would forever live in Bruce's mind.

As though Bruce had pressed a button in Joker, his slow movements became frantic. That whine was followed up with more noises, writhing, and Joker gripping onto Bruce as though he were drowning.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Joker whimpered against Bruce's mouth. “This is unfair. You're unfair. No one should-" at that moment Bruce brushed his hand between Joker's legs- “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_! Please, Bats. Don't fucking stop.”

Bruce growled deep in his chest, satisfied with how beautiful Joker looked flush with arousal, already begging for Bruce to keep going. Bruce had every intention of lifting Joker's dress by the hem and making the man writhe in pleasure. He moved to do just that when his thigh reminded him it was shot a few days ago.

Bruce hissed through his teeth; his once aroused griping turned hard as he fought against the swelling pain that radiated from his wound. Bruce buried his face into Joker's neck, not wanting Joker to see. To worry, but it was too late for that.

“Oh yeah, you’re hurt,” Joker said, his voice breathy, as he wrapped his arms around Bruce to stabilize him. “That's a mood killer.”

“I'm sorry,” Bruce murmured against Joker's neck, the ache making his voice tight.

“Never apologize for being in pain,” Joker said firmly, his body pressed against Bruce even though it couldn't be comfortable. The armor would certainly pinch, but Joker didn't complain.

They stood together for a few moments, each calming down. Bruce pressed his nose against Joker and just inhaled his scent. It was oddly soothing, the delicate hint of something masculine. His hair was a gentle coconut scent, clearly from his shampoo. It mingled with his natural smell and allowed Bruce to concentrate on that instead of his thigh.

“You keep breathing there and I'll go mad,” Joker said though his voice was steady again. “My neck is sensitive and unless you're gonna bite it, we should get going.”

Bruce huffed and pulled back slightly. His leg wobbled causing him to pause as he was concerned the lithe man may not be able to take his weight. Joker surprised him once more by moving to Bruce's side, and slinging an arm over his shoulder, taking the weight off Bruce's injured leg as though it were nothing.

“Let's get you home,” Joker said with a soft smile, his lips swollen from their activities, and lipstick smeared. He looked properly ravaged.

Bruce wanted to kiss him again. His heart ached with it but the smarter part of him finally awoke by the sharp throbbing of his leg. He nodded instead and allowed the slighter man to assist him to his car.

Luckily, it was only a block away.

The Batmobile was parked at the dead end of an alley long abandoned by the city. There weren't any street lights that made it back there, allowing the car to hide in complete shadow. But as soon as Bruce approached, the car turned on, lighting up, and purring engine.

“Is _that_ your car?” Joker asked in awe. His eyes were wide with childlike glee as he left Bruce to lean against the driver's side while he darted over to inspect the vehicle.

Bruce watched as Joker’s ungloved hand caressed the hood of the Batmobile, and Joker giggled to himself. Joker was practically bouncing in place, vibrating with excitement as he poked and prodded various areas. Bruce felt his mouth dry when Joker leaned over the side and his dress hiked up his hips, giving Bruce a wonderful view of his ass.

Bruce focused his attention to getting in the damn car or else he'd make another attempt at Joker which would only aggravate the stitches. Bruce slowly sunk into the driver's seat; glad he could also control the vehicle purely through hand controls if needed. It was going to come in handy tonight.

Joker came over and stood beside Bruce, leaning on the door.

“You have someone to take care of you?” Joker asked. A pause. Then he snorted at his own joke. “I mean, the wound not…. _Uh_ … the other thing.”

“I do,” Bruce answered, then smirked. “For the wound.”

Joker's eyes practically sparkled with mischief as he glanced at the passenger seat. His smudged lips curled into a smile.

“I happen to know someone willing to take care of the other thing,” Joker said, shrugging but Bruce could almost see his pulse jump. “You know… if you need someone.”

Bruce felt as though a lump had formed in his throat. He needed to go back to the cave in order to get his wound taken care of, which means if he took Joker up on his offer, he would have to bring Joker there. That would lead to having someone, other than Alfred, in his cave. Somewhere he never brought anyone.

Bruce wanted Joker, that much was easy for anyone to see, but that didn't mean he trusted him. At the very least, he'd have to consult with Alfred. He couldn't allow anyone to know about him without consent.

“Not tonight,” Bruce answered, attempting to prevent it sounding like a rejection.

By the way Joker's shoulders slumped, it was taken that way. Joker's eyes darted away from him, and he took a step back.

Bruce opened his mouth to explain but Joker beat him to it.

“Hey, I get it,” Joker assured him. “I’m not exactly a guy you bring home. I can take a hint, Bats.”

Bruce reached out and grabbed the front of Joker's dress. He yanked the man who yelped and pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss.

Joker was frozen for two seconds then he practically melted against Bruce, arms circling Bruce's shoulders, and that wonderful little whine spilling from him. Bruce's other hand cupped Joker's jaw, holding his face there so Bruce could taste him.

They kissed until Joker was fully relaxed again before Bruce finally allowed Joker to pull back. Bruce enjoyed the glazed expression on Joker's face. He kept his hold on Joker's dress though, not allowing the man to move far. He was going to get his message across one way or another.

“Don't put words in my mouth,” Bruce growled, watching Joker shudder at his tone.

Bruce pulled Joker closer, remembering the comment about his neck, he nipped Joker there. Joker’s knees went weak, and he all but collapsed on the doorframe.

“Unfair,” Joker complained, though moved his head, allowing Bruce greater access to his throat.

“It's not just _me_ , Joker. I can't do anything that risks them without their permission,” Bruce explained, pausing to suck on the skin right below Joker's ear. “Do you understand?”

“Yeah, _fuck_ , I do Bats,” Joker whimpered, his whole-body trembling under Bruce's assault. “Y-you keep that u-up and I'll cum.”

The flame that burned earlier in Bruce's gut came back to life as an inferno. Wound be damned, Bruce wasn’t going to let that comment go. Bruce made a deep growl as he bit Joker right at the joint where collar met neck, immediately sucking hard at the skin. He held Joker still as the man bucked, letting out breathless whines, curses, and clung onto Bruce as though his very life depended on it.

Bruce dipped his hand below Joker's dress and found his arousal. His hand palmed it, and despite the glove, he could feel the heat pouring out from Joker's skin.

“Oh fuck, Bats,” Joker moaned, his hips already moving into Bruce's hand. His fingers scrambled against the slick armor, trying to hold onto anything he could, and he was flushed from his chest to the top of his head.

Bruce had a goal. He was going to make Joker understand how badly he wanted him. How much Bruce wanted him to feel pleasure. That Bruce wanted the title of Lover.

Bruce paused only long enough to take off the glove, lick his palm slick, before his fingers reached back in for Joker. Pushing aside the dress, and by the feel of it, lacy panties under that. He wrapped a solid hand around Joker's cock and enjoyed the weight of it as it fit perfectly in his grip.

“Bats, Bats, Bats,” Joker chanted, his voice breaking whenever Bruce changed his pressure on his bite into a high-pitched whine.

When Bruce pulled back to suck, and licked at his mark, Joker started rambling.

“You're so fucking sexy, Bats. I don't think you know it, but you _are_. I would let you fuck me anywhere you wanted. Alleyway, shitty hotel room, over your amazing fucking car hood. _Fuck_ , I'd let you take me _dry_ ,” the words tumbled from Joker's mouth like a stream of conscious. His voice was wrecked though, breathy, broken by moans, and desperate. “Please Bats. Please just a few minutes more. I want you for a little longer.”

Bruce could feel Joker trembling, his whole body seemingly out of his own control under Bruce's hands. Bruce pulled Joker up, man handling him to straddle Bruce's good thigh. Joker’s body wrapped around Bruce, exposing the other side of his neck to Bruce's teeth.

Bruce ran his hand through Joker's green locks, grabbing a handful, and holding Joker's head at a better angle. He enjoyed Joker's pleased whine as he sunk his teeth into the newly supplied flesh.

Bruce made sure to thoroughly mark Joker's neck, nipping, sucking, and kissing every inch given to him. The whole time with one hand on Joker's hair, the other stroking Joker's cock. He made note of every sound made during different speeds, twists, and hold, until he found just the right amount to make Joker become a breathless, writhing mess in his lap.

Bruce never felt quite so powerful as he did when Joker griped him tight, his body convulsing, and cumming hard in Bruce's hand.

Bruce continued kissing Joker's neck through his aftershocks, and gently removed himself from under the dress. Bruce listened to Joker's breathing and allowed Joker to rest against his body as he recovered.

“Y-you're unbelievable, you know that?” Joker whispered, then let out a quiet chuckle. He nuzzled Bruce's head, his arms lightly squeezing Bruce's shoulders.

“You're gorgeous,” Bruce said, temporarily pausing at his worship of Joker's neck.

Joker pulled back, his eyes critically looking at Bruce as though trying to spot a lie. The effect was slightly ruined by Joker's sex ruined hair, and flushed cheeks. Bruce could hardly be blamed for leaning forward and capturing those smeared lips.

Joker’s mouth opened to Bruce immediately, and Bruce hummed in pleasure. Joker’s fingers drifted lower during their kisses, and Bruce didn't notice until he felt the snaps on his suit open.

Joker's hot hand was on him before Bruce stop him. Instantly Bruce's muscles tensed at the sensation, the shock, and sudden pleasure of having a hand on him. It would be glorious if his thigh didn't also tighten.

Bruce hissed through his teeth, catching Joker's wrist. Joker had frozen at the sound of Bruce's pain, his eyes, still glazed from orgasm, wide, and panicked.

“It's alright,” Bruce said, trying to lighten the mood but it was already shattered.

“I forgot again,” Joker whispered, his free hand gently touching Bruce's thigh. He frowned heavily, his jaw clenching. “I'm so fucking _stupid_! I can't believe I forgot you were shot! You're probably bleeding out while trying to please me and I'm just making it _worse_.”

Bruce grabbed Joker by his shoulders, holding the angry man in place. Bruce could feel the tiny shivers going through Joker's body, he was most likely shaking in anger, or fear at hurting Bruce.

“You're not stupid,” Bruce firmly said. When Joker didn't seem to respond, he cupped Joker's jaw, and made them connect eyes. “You're not _stupid_. We _both_ forgot.”

“Yeah, but I _hurt_ you,” Joker said as he looked away.

Bruce felt helpless as Joker shrugged from his hold and removed himself from the Batmobile. Joker stood with his back to Bruce for a few seconds, his chest expanding as he took deep breaths. Bruce didn’t know what to do.

“Get home Bats,” Joker said, his back still turned, but his voice calm.

Bruce reached out, his hand brushing against Joker's leg, making Joker finally turn towards him.

“I'm not leaving without a kiss goodbye,” Bruce said.

Joker stared at him. Then, as though a dam broke, burst out laughing. Joker wrapped his arms around himself as his laugh echoed in the dark alley. The sight of Joker's head thrown back, allowing the deep bruises on his neck to display in the pale light sent a bolt of arousal through Bruce's body, even as the unnerving laughter continued.

Joker calmed like a faucet being turned off. Trickling down to chuckles, then a few drops of giggles before just a wide smile was left.

“You’re the most stubborn man I've ever met,” Joker said, his voice full of fondness.

“I can't imagine what that's like,” Bruce responded, making a few more chuckles escape from Joker.

“When you're all healed up Bats,” Joker said, slowly bending down. His smile turned mischievous. “I'm going to ride you in this car.”

It took a few minutes, and a lot of kissing before they parted. Bruce watched Joker saunter off, blowing him a kiss goodbye before he turned the corner. Bruce allowed himself a private smile, then drove home to a painful wash, and stitching of his reopened wound.


	3. Chapter 3

It took eight days for Bruce's wound to heal enough that he could walk without a cane, three days after to be able to run on it, and longer still before Alfred allowed him back on the streets. Until then, Bruce was restless.

Every night away from the Gotham rooftops were torturous to Bruce. He knew the fallout from Thorne's death was going to be terrible. It left a huge power vacuum and the people of Gotham always suffered for it. Not to mention the power play by Falcone couldn't go unpunished.

Bruce was forced to work behind the scenes, using hacked security footage and his knowledge to piece parts together. Together with Gordon's interrogation of the mercenaries arrested at the scene, and Bruce's resources, they were left with a troubling picture with too many pieces left blank. Bruce spent long hours at the computer going over the evidence on end and his back paid for it.

His thoughts would eventually quiet and leave him exhausted enough to climb into bed. When the manor was silent and the halls dark, those were the moments he would remember Joker's lips and heat until Bruce would have to take himself in hand.

Bruce's nearly two decades of dedicated training and work as Batman left very little time for bodily needs. He hadn't thought of being with someone, sharing his space and bed with a person.

There was once upon a time a woman named Talia. She lit a spark in Bruce that no other had before nor since. She was someone Bruce brought to bed with passion but never once though of her, imagined her, in his home. Just in his life. And there were days still when he would linger on her memory before they ended up understanding they viewed their relationship differently.

Yet, his thoughts never put her in his bed at the manor. When Bruce woke up in the mornings since his injury, he would stare at the empty spot next to him, wondering what it would be like filled with someone. He could almost see the pale skin against his black sheets, the curly green hair splayed on his pillows, and hear that unsettling laugh echo in his ear.

Those mornings unnerved Bruce in a way he couldn't describe.

Bruce's return to the street wasn't pleasant. The crime had increased with Batman's absence despite Gordon's best efforts, and the first night back showed. Bruce’s leg already throbbed at how much strain he put on it. Five muggings, two robberies, a drug deal, and a car chase. Though there were no leads on Deadshot, many never even hearing of the man.

With no leads and a promise to keep, Bruce made his way to Joker's alley. His stomach clenched in anticipation at seeing the man, hoping he was still working. Due to all the crime out, Bruce spent most of the night hours in the lower east side. It meant he was arriving to see Joker late into the night, far later than he ever did before.

Which might be why for the very first time Bruce was catching Joker with a client.

Bruce could hear them from his vantage point on the roof before he looked down. A man's moans echoed, deeper than Joker's, and his words accented heavily by the lower streets. Bruce’s heart skipped when he heard Joker's tones follow.

Joker was bent over, dress scrunched up to his mid back, and legs spread. Behind him was a blonde man, rugged looking, and wearing the most stereotypical gangster clothes possible, including a white jacket. Bruce could tell by their movements exactly what he had inadvertently dropped into.

Joker was getting fucked hard by a client.

Bruce griped his hands, hot anger washing over him, and he wanted nothing more than to grab that blonde by the throat, watch the man gasp his last breath for touching Joker. Bruce had silently landed in the alley, his shoulders heckled, and ready to assert himself into the situation. His eyes focused on the man, when his ears caught Joker's words.

“Jonny-Jonny, you're going to have to do better,” Joker said, his voice commanding. It made Bruce and this Jonny pause. “You want to please me, right?”

“Of course, Boss!” Jonny answered immediately. “Anything you want, I'll do.”

“Then bend down and give your Boss's back some love while you fuck me a little deeper,” Joker ordered.

Jonny followed the order so quick; his first kiss was on the dress instead of flesh. He eagerly pushed the dress aside, his lips worshiping Joker's back, while his thrusts slowed, snapping harder, giving Joker exactly what he ordered. Bent over Joker, eyes no longer on the alley, and given a task.

Joker looked up to easily connected eyes with Bruce, and give a wide, intoxicating smile. Then, the bastard winked.

Bruce felt his anger wash away in a moment only to be replaced with overwhelming arousal. Bruce nearly doubled over with the blood rushing through his body and had to struggle not to make any sounds. As though sensing his problem, Joker let out a series of low moans, covering any sound Bruce might have made.

It did not take Bruce's level of detective skills to figure out what Joker was doing. It also didn't take that skill to know how arousing it was to Bruce.

Joker may have been the one taking it, but he was in control. He would give a low, direct order to Jonny, who would eagerly follow, calling Joker “Boss" the whole time. Bruce could hardly do anything but watch with his lower abdomen burning, as his suit constricted his erection.

Joker smirked, as though knowing the effect he was having on Bruce. He pushed himself up, arching his back beautifully, and dragged one of Jonny's hands to his chest.

“Play with me,” Joker said, his eyes staring intensely at Bruce. Those words were a request for Bruce, and Bruce nodded.

 “My pleasure, boss,” Jonny practically purred, his fingers teased at Joker's nipple, oblivious to the third party.

Joker kept his body curved, his whole front on display for Bruce's hungry eyes which gladly devoured the sight. Joker's lips were parted, glistening as Joker’s tongue kept swiping across them. Bruce’s mind easily conjured the image of other uses for those lips. His gaze drifted down the column of throat bared to Bruce but was completely unmarked. As though waiting for Bruce to paint it again with bruises.

Further down, where Jonny's tanned hand was teasing Joker's nipple to pebble. Bruce tilted his head slightly, wishing he could see the other poking through the fabric.

As though sensing what Bruce wanted, Joker made Jonny switch sides. It took a lot of self control for Bruce not to growl in satisfaction. He watched Jonny's hand for a few seconds, pleased he could see how sensitive Joker was becoming, before roaming.

The purple dress was bunched up around Joker's naval now. It allowed Bruce to see the beautiful abdomen underneath. Like the rest of Joker, it was unusually soft white. As though Joker's body was carved from pure marble stone. As thin as Joker was, Bruce could see the corded muscles flex at each thrust from Jonny.

It led further down where his hips led to Joker's cock, straining in the air, bouncing at the activities. Even from the distance, and the dark, Bruce could see the faint veins, as blood flowed through it. It begged to be touched, and Bruce's fingers curled as though remembering the heat from it.

Bruce dragged his eyes down to the strip of thigh visible before his legs were swallowed by black boots. There was something irrevocably attractive about Joker's shiny black boots still in place while the rest of him was a mess.

“Boss?” Jonny questioned; his voice tight, close to his own pleasure cresting.

“Yes?” Joker teased.

“May I t-touch you?” Jonny asked, his voice breaking on the word touch. As though the thought alone was almost too much.

Joker didn't answer right away. His glazed eyes focused on Bruce, ensuring he had Bruce's full attention. Then, he mouthed:

‘ _Can he_?’

Bruce felt his whole world stop for that moment. Where he had complete power over the scene in front of him. He could deny Joker, watch him squirm as Jonny came but Joker would be unsatisfied.

A part of Bruce wanted that. To see if Joker would listen. To watch him endure and be used while Bruce watched, knowing it was by his choice. The idea was tempting but a larger part of Bruce wanted to watch Joker come in front of him again.

Bruce gave a single nod.

“Touch me, Jonny-Jonny,” Joker ordered. “And make it showy.”

“God yes, Boss,” Jonny groaned, the hand that teased Joker’s chest now falling to his cock.

Joker made up for it though. He looked like a porn star, arching against Jonny, his own hands teasing at his nipples, throat exposed, wanton moans falling from his lips, all the while being fucked hard, and a hand pumping at his cock. Joker pushed his hips back against Jonny's thrusts, and a hand raised to his throat.

Joker tapped his neck, eyes on Bruce. He was asking if Bruce wanted to see Jonny bite him there. Bruce firmly gave a single shake. That was his. Joker smiled, most likely at the show of possession, biting his lip seductively.

Bruce almost forgot himself as his one foot moved forward. He wanted to kiss those lips. Yearned for it.

Bruce could hear Joker getting close. His moans turned closer to whines, less showing off and more real. The hand on his cock twisted slightly, just as a thrust was given, and Bruce saw the moment Joker’s pleasure broke.

He was stunning as his body flexed, abs tightening as he came. His body shook with aftershocks, moans tumbling with each one, but his lips formed another word not voiced.

 _Bats_.

Bruce and Joker kept eye contact, ignoring Jonny's own orgasm that followed right after. Bruce could feel the tension between them, each waiting for them to be alone.

As soon as Jonny pulled out and just grasping at the condom, Joker spoke.

“Leave now,” Joker ordered.

Jonny paused for only a second, clearly taken off guard by the command. But it apparently wasn't that unusual because Jonny dragged his pants up and winced as the other messily unrolled the condom.

“Y-yes, Boss,” Jonny answered. In his scramble to obey, he nearly tripped over trash in the dark alley, cursing under his breath.

Bruce and Joker didn't pay any mind to Jonny after that. Even when Jonny reached the end of the alley, took a glance back, only seeing Joker unmoved, and left. They were in their own world now. One in which Bruce was overheated with desire and consumed by his power over Joker, who remained still in the face of it.

Bruce watched Joker as he panted. Joker's body was exposed to Bruce's gaze and while every curve tempted Bruce to grab, to take, there was something else. Something deep and possessive in Bruce that caused him to pause.

“Are you done for the night?” Bruce asked, his voice low.

“I'm all yours,” Joker responded with a sultry smile.

Bruce moved then, his hand automatically going to Joker's hip. He stood behind Joker, enjoying how the man's breath hitched at the gentle touch. Bruce's thumb pushed into Joker's skin, making Joker bend forward. The sight of Joker's form, of his ass being presented so easily for Bruce was almost his undoing.

But Bruce had an iron will when he was in the middle of a mission.

Bruce grabbed the sides of Joker's dress and straightened the outfit to cover the man. Joker made a noise of protest then Bruce's hand moved to the back of his neck. And squeezed.

“You're coming with me,” Bruce growled and enjoyed the shiver it caused in Joker.

Bruce didn't allow for protest as he wrapped an arm firmly around Joker's waist, tugged the man flush against him, and pulled out his grappling gun. Bruce didn't provide any warning as they were flung into the air and onto the Gotham rooftops. Joker, perhaps in fear, wrapped his arms tightly around Bruce's shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle. Bruce didn't stop as he allowed his cape to expand, filling with air, and causing them to glide.

Bruce got them to his car within a minute as he used one hand to keep grappling, allowing their travel to be quick, and one hand securing Joker to him. Bruce scooped up Joker's legs, holding him bridal style as the cape broke on the trip down. They landed safely, Bruce knowing how to protect his knees from injury even with the extra weight.

“That's one way to travel,” Joker said, his voice shaking.

Bruce saw the wide smile and felt the arms flex around his shoulders. There wasn't any fear in Joker, but excitement. Bruce carried him to the passenger side and felt the vibrations coming from Joker before he heard the giggles.

“We're taking the Batmobile?” he asked, eagerly sliding into the seat.

Bruce secured Joker in place then got into the driver's side. Without looking at Joker, he started the car and took off to his destination. When Joker attempted to touch him, Bruce grabbed his wrist firmly.

“Hands to yourself,” Bruce ordered.

Bruce could see Joker's wide grin from the corner of his eye. When he let go of Joker's wrist, Joker returned it to his lap. He behaved himself the rest of the way, quietly humming a tune, and watching the street lights go by.

Bruce gripped the steering wheel hard. He had cooled from his initial reaction to seeing Joker spread out for another man and Joker's game. That did not mean his mind would let him forget the image for even a second. His ears would ring from the sounds of flesh slapping, moans echoing, and Joker's breathy almost words.

Bruce turned the corner sharply.

It was only a few minutes before he pulled the Batmobile into the abandoned garage. He flipped a switch on the dashboard and the garage door shut, then the whole car was lowered to a hidden section. It was a safe house Bruce set up, once he wasn't in need of anymore, but it had what he required.

A shower and a bed.

Joker let out a low whistle.

“I have to say, you really play the cool hero part quite well,” he commented as his head swiveled to see the large room. It had a simple workbench in the corner, a bed, and a shower. There was a single door leading to a small room with just a toilet for privacy.

Bruce got out of the car before the ramp lowered completely. He had waited long enough. He grabbed Joker from the seat and pushed him against a wall. He only waited long enough to hear that beautiful gasp, before kissing Joker.

It nearly undid all the plans Bruce had at that moment. When they connected and Bruce could taste Joker once more. Feel the moans as they moved through Joker's body and have the tingles run down Bruce's spine. He could kiss this man for hours and never tire.

But he had a plan. And it involved getting Joker cleaned. To remove any trace of another man on him.

Then Bruce would mark him.

Bruce pulled away, enjoying the view of Joker worked up once more. His lips were already starting to swell at their activities and his pupils expanded. Bruce had the pleasure of teasing him by curling a hand on his neck, then using it to pull him towards the shower.

“Get washed,” Bruce ordered.

Joker eyed the bland white tiled shower with its see-through curtain then to Bruce. He didn't object to the demands in the least. His mischievous expression gave him away instantly and Bruce had to fight the urge to kiss him once more. Joker slowly removed himself from Bruce's hold, tilted his head as though thinking, then grinned.

Bruce should have known better than letting him go.

Joker slowly bent over to turn the valves, allowing his dress to ride up so high it left nothing to Bruce's imagination. Bruce’s mouth watered at the sight, seeing Joker in a fully lit room for the first time. Where each curve and inch of pale skin was on display. As though in a trance, Bruce watched Joker unzip his boots, money spilling out of them and something plastic fell.

Bruce growled at the evidence of other men. There was easily a few thousand dollars littered around Joker along with a few empty wrappers for condoms. The worst was Joker's feigned innocence at the sheer debauchery.

“ _Oops_ ,” Joker said with a giggle and a coy expression. “Forgot I had _those_ in there. Difficult remembering that when you have some _nice gentlemen_ fucking you in an alley.”

Bruce tore at his bracers, letting then clatter to the floor as he prowled forward. Joker stepped out of his boots, then peeled his gloves off, backing away from Bruce's stalking form with a grin.

“Are we jealous?” Joker asked, cocking an eyebrow. Bruce narrowed his eyes in response, working on his belt. “I think you're very, _very_ jealous.”

The belt dropped, and Bruce unclipped his cape just as Joker was backed into a corner. Joker moved his head to the side, baring his throat to Bruce which soothed him. Bruce nipped at the pale skin making Joker quake beneath him, but he refused to give in completely to Joker's game.

He knew what Joker was doing. Raising the anger in Bruce by teasing him about other men then playing the prey to kick up Bruce's instincts. Bruce had no doubt in his mind that Joker understood what he was doing and how it effected Bruce. The man was far too clever to be unaware.

When Joker's fingers brushed his stomach, somehow under the armor _, how did he do that without Bruce noticing_ , Bruce growled.

“Heh, _oops_ ,” Joker giggled, pulling his hands up near his head in surrender. “Forgot about your hands-off rule. Must have just _slipped_ my mind.”

“Shower,” Bruce said through clenched teeth. “ **Now**.”

Joker ducked under his arms, quickly moving towards the now steaming shower. Bruce took a few seconds to calm himself before turning just in time to see Joker strip the purple dress off. The corded muscles flexed and moved beautifully under his porcelain skin as he pulled the tight dress over his head, allowing it to drop on the floor. He stood proudly naked and gave a wink before hoping in the shower.

Bruce had plans to tease Joker with stripping off his own suit, to make Joker clean while being able to see what he wanted to touch through the curtain. But Joker had beat him to all of it.

Bruce cursed himself, his chest warm with affection for the man who bested him with ease, as he removed his suit and joined a very naked, and very amused Joker in the shower.

“Come to join me?” Joker commented with a grin. His eyes went to the cowl still covering much of Bruce's face, but he didn't ask.

Bruce was grateful for it.

He pulled Joker's back flush against his chest and without a word started kissing at his neck. Bruce's arms circled Joker, one hand coming up to tease at Joker's chest, the other dipping below to cup him. At Joker's whine, Bruce opened his mouth and firmly bit the joint between neck and shoulder.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Joker whimpered, his knees shaking, and his hands gripping at Bruce's strong arms to hold himself up. “I've been waiting for you to do that- _oh_ _God_ , _fuck_ _that's_ _good_ \- since last time. _Dreaming_ about it. _Touching_ _myself_ while thinking about it.”

Bruce didn't allow an inch between them. Couldn't. Not once he had Joker in his arms. He at least had the ability to help Joker clean while lathering his neck with bites and bruises and kisses.

Their time in the shower felt like a blur. Bruce only knew they were clean because he could taste the difference on Joker's skin. He could smell it, as Joker had a new scent. Washed away the alley, the streets of Gotham, the others, and all he smelled of was himself. And Bruce.

Bruce knew they would regret the damp blankets in the morning, but they couldn't separate from each other. Not when they were finally alone. When Bruce was healed, and their want bared. They were lucky they even made it to the bed.

Bruce shoved Joker onto the bed, holding him by the back of his neck to pin Joker down, while lifting his hips. Bruce was dizzy with desire, loving that Joker allowed him to dominate his body. Bruce settled between Joker's spread legs and tested how open Joker was.

The wanton moan that escaped Joker's lips sent a hot streak of arousal down Bruce's spine and warmed below. There was little time between Bruce's check and when he finally sunk all the way into Joker's heat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” they moaned in unison.

Bruce took several deep breaths as the pleasure coiled from being surrounded by Joker. He had to release his hold on Joker's neck as the sensation had caused him to grip tight enough Joker was struggling to breathe. Bruce placed a few kisses on the heated skin as an apology, before slowly pulling halfway out, then thrusting back in.

Bruce could not be gentle. They had waited long enough. Later, Bruce would be slow, ease them into mutual pleasure while passing long kisses and murmured passions, but that was for later. When they could speak again and not be lost in each other so thoroughly they could think of nothing else but chasing a release.

Bruce kept Joker at an obscene angle, practically bent in half with his legs spread wide to fit all of Bruce behind him. One hand held Joker down, who gripped the blankets with white knuckles, crying out so often it grew into a continuous chorus of moans, and Bruce’s other hand was bruising Joker's hip, sharply tugging him back to meet each of Bruce's thrusts. Bruce would worry about the brutal way he was treating the lithe man, as his skin blossomed with deep purples from the treatment, if Joker didn't cry out.

“Fuck, _harder_ _Bats_!”

And that is when Bruce broke the bed.

Joker let out a surprised laugh as the bed collapsed under them, and Bruce was annoyed. Bruce grabbed Joker by the hips, keeping himself buried in Joker's heat, and moved them. It took a few precious seconds for Bruce to tug off the blanket to the floor and deposit a still cackling Joker on it.

“We- _hehehe_ \- we actually,” Joker gasped out between laughing. “Broke a _bed_ while _fucking_!”

“I'm not done yet,” Bruce said, noticing Joker's arousal hadn't flagged in the least.

He pulled Joker’s back against his chest once more, mirroring their positions in the shower but on their knees now. One of Bruce's hands remained on Joker's hip, the other came up to rest at his throat. Joker’s laughter stopped, faded into a groan, then leaned his head on Bruce's shoulder.

“I hope you have some strength left in you, Bats,” Joker said, his breath on Bruce's ear making him shiver. “Because that hand on my throat better not be just for show-"

Joker was cut off as Bruce squeezed at his throat and began fucking him again. Bruce felt Joker's hands grabbing at his wrist pushing Bruce to a comfortable position. Bruce knew he got it when Joker's hands fell away to Bruce’s thighs, and a groan of satisfaction left Joker.

Now that their positions were made and there wasn't a worry of breaking any more furniture, Bruce gave into Joker's previous demands. He snapped his hips forward, yanking Joker back to meet him, barely allowing a moment before pulling back to do it again. Bruce progressively tightened his hand on Joker's throat, making the man gasp and Bruce angled Joker's head just right so Bruce could swallow those moans with his lips.

The tension in his lower gut was building, heat pooling into his groin as they continued. The taste of Joker on his tongue and the sounds of their fucking echoed in his ears. Bruce watched Joker's skin flush, pulling from his mouth to bite into every free inch of skin on Joker's throat. It was already littered with marks, claims in red and purple. Bruce found a tender one and lapped at it, enjoying the climbing whine of Joker's voice.

They were both close now. Bruce could see Joker's cock throbbing, weeping at the tip as it slapped against his abs. Bruce wanted to see him cum again, watch it from a new angle. His teeth sank further into Joker, and he quickened his thrusts suddenly. And that tipped Joker over the edge.

Joker's voice broke as his release shot out, his body shaking violently as his stomach and chest were painted. Bruce watched, a deep satisfaction curling in his stomach at the sight, knowing he made Joker cum untouched, those moans were for him, and Joker was _his._

Bruce's orgasm hit him suddenly, everything tightened, Joker's body pulsed around his cock in his own release, and blind pleasure exploded from Bruce’s core. He could hardly stop the cries tearing up his throat as he lost himself in the heat of it. He pulled Joker as close as he could, holding onto the lithe man as the world seemed to shake under him, as he filled Joker with everything he had.

They held each other, Bruce clinging from Joker's back, and Joker holding onto the arms tightly wrapped around him. They gasped and panted together, sweat soaked skin forcefully pressed until they could feel each other's heart racing. Bruce traced his lips up and down Joker's throat, tasting the skin as though grounding himself. Joker's fingers danced across Bruce's arms, as they both fought to return to themselves.

For a few blissful seconds, Bruce’s mind was quiet.

Joker let out a breathy laugh.

“So,” he started and turned towards Bruce who could see his wide grin. “What _else_ can we break?”

Joker chuckled as Bruce nipped at his ear for the cheekiness, but he gave in. Bruce was quickly learning it was far easier to give Joker what he wanted than to fight him. Then again, as Bruce laid Joker out on the hood of the Batmobile, watching his fantasy of Joker opening his legs on his prized car, why fight something he wanted too.

Bruce woke up with his muscles sore, his still healing thigh throbbing, and a deep-seated satisfaction in his chest. His internal comm in his cowl alerted him that it was time to wake up like a normal person. Bruce attempted to turn off the alarm when he felt trapping his arm.

He looked down to see a mess of green hair on his chest, limbs clinging onto him like an octopus, and by the feel of it, drool puddling somewhere on his abs. Bruce’s arms were trapped in the grip and he would have to dislodge Joker in order to move.

Or, Bruce thought, be creative.

He turned his head, adjusting the pressure of his head enough against the cowl, and nudged his shoulder on the button. Just as planned, the alarm finally turned off, and Bruce could hear past the low buzzing.

His movements hadn’t woken Joker. There were soft snores to accompany the drool. Bruce relaxed and allowed himself a few more minutes to just wake up slowly. It was rare he had the opportunity to do so. Even rarer that he indulged in it.

Alfred would be proud.

As much fun as it was breaking the bed Bruce was starting to regret it as he realized his left arm was asleep. Being stuck between the mattress they had tugged to the floor, and Joker’s surprisingly heavy body, couldn’t be good for his circulation. Bruce curled his fingers, trying to get some sort of feeling back in them, and inadvertently brushed them against Joker’s side.

Joker squirmed as though ticklish. He moved away from Bruce’s hand, and settled firmly onto Bruce’s chest. Bruce could barely contain the smile as Joker let out grumbles when Bruce purposefully did it again.

“Tickles,” Joker mumbled, making sleepy swats at the hand.

“It’s time to wake up,” Bruce said.

“Says who?” Joker responded and then hid his face from view.

“Society,” Bruce pulled his arm free from under Joker, and started rubbing circles on his back. “I'll let you lay for a few more minutes, but then I at least have to get up.”

Joker turned towards Bruce, resting his chin on Bruce's chest, eyes still closed.

“I thought bats were nocturnal,” Joker complained, pouting. “Pretty sure you're supposed to be sleeping now.”

Bruce could try to explain his day persona and the need for it, but he doubted Joker would care much about it. Bruce would still have to move him, and Joker would still be disappointed. So, Bruce continued to rub Joker's back, letting the man wake up slowly as an apology.

Joker opened his eyes and watched Bruce's face for a few seconds. Bruce marveled at the brilliant green that seemed to brighten the longer he looked.

“How long do we have?” Joker asked.

“Roughly ten minutes before I have to get dressed,” Bruce answered, wondering what Joker was planning.

Joker's lips curled into a wicked smile and something in Bruce's stomach flipped.

“That's plenty,” Joker said, and before Bruce could ask what for, Joker slid down Bruce’s body. “If I have to be awake before noon, I’m going to at least do something I enjoy.”

The sight of Joker settling between his legs was enough to get Bruce going, then a hand started stroking at Bruce's growing member. Bruce fought to watch, but when Joker took him in his mouth, Bruce couldn’t help throwing his head back as every nerve awoke in his body.

Bruce called out sick that day.

Bruce admired the bruises and marks on Joker’s neck and shoulders from their activities. Usually, if Bruce let his strength get the best of him with a partner, he’d feel guilty. Not with Joker though, who preened under the attention, and inspected the marks.

“You know how to make a guy feel special,” Joker commented, viewing the marks in the mirror by the desk. “I’m probably not going to be able to work for a few days while I let these babies fade.”

Bruce grimaced. He hadn't meant to put Joker in any trouble.

“Why do you have to not work with them?” Bruce asked, then lightly kissed Joker’s shoulder. “Are some of your clients possessive?”

 Joker chuckled, leaning against Bruce, and watching him in the mirror.

“No. They _all_ know they don’t own me,” Joker said with a grin. He rotated his hips, grinding against Bruce, who had to hold him still least they start having sex again. “But it shatters the _illusion_ that they do when I run around with someone’s marks all over me. Other clients wouldn’t care, like Jonny-Jonny.”

Bruce nipped at Joker and it made his grin widen.

“Jonny-Jonny just wants to feel like he got a taste of something _special_ and seeing me marked would just make me all the more appetizing to him,” Joker continued, clearly knowing how Bruce felt about him mentioning the man who Bruce caught him fucking. “There's a few who you haven’t met… well… let’s just say they’re very particular about my state of being.”

“What state would that be in exactly?”

At that, Joker turned, wrapping his arms around Bruce’s neck. He pulled Bruce towards him as he stepped backwards until Joker’s back met with the wall. Joker kissed him and Bruce instantly deepened it, pressing his body against Joker. Bruce was amazed at how quickly Joker could get him going. Like flipping a switch in Bruce’s libido.

Joker pulled back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Do you notice how you are right now?” Joker asked. “Demanding, free of any claims or marks. Possessive. _Masculine_. That is how some of my clients want me. Hard to be that when you’ve clearly been the bottom to a possessive top, Batsy-dear.”

“Are you saying I’m possessive?” Bruce asked.

Joker burst out laughing, smothering his face into Bruce’s neck as his body shook from the force of it. Bruce allowed the man a few seconds to be amused, then started sucking at the skin just below Joker’s ear, startling Joker, and turning that laughter in moaning.

 _Much_ _better_ , Bruce thought as he gave a final open kiss to Joker’s neck before pulling away.

“I would just like to state for the record,” Joker said, his pupils already expanding. “I have no issues with you being possessive. You’re the good kind of possessive.”

“The good kind?”

“Yeah, Bats,” Joker smiled fondly. “You’re the type who'd put a collar on me with your name on it. What makes you the good kind is, you’d never do it without my enthusiastic consent.”

Bruce wasn’t sure what to say to that. For some reason his heart fluttered, and his eyes dropped to Joker’s neck. The idea of putting a collar on him was appealing, and damn. When Bruce’s eyes connected with Joker, who’s grin was practically splitting his face as though knowing what Bruce was thinking, there was only one thing Bruce could do.

He kissed him until they both stopped thinking.

They went their separate ways in the afternoon. Joker saying he needed to get some real sleep and Bruce needing to wear something other than the batsuit. Bruce dropped Joker off in an alleyway outside his apartment building, enjoying one last kiss before they parted.

“Hey Bats,” Joker said, leaning back into the car.

“Yes?”

“I’m not gonna be around for a bit, due to the beautiful marks you left me,” Joker grinned. “You want my cell number? You know, in case you need some intel,” his eyes turned mischievous. “Or you get lonely.”

“I don’t get lonely.”

“Oh, but I do,” Joker cooed, crawling back into the car. They kissed deep and slow. Joker nipped at Bruce’s lips this time, pulling back with a smile. “You gonna help me out?”

Bruce gave Joker his number, then pulled him in for one last kiss. Bruce watched Joker practically bounce his way down the alley, turning, and blowing a kiss in Bruce’s direction before disappearing up a set of stairs into the building. Bruce was tempted to follow the man, see where he lived, and before he could complete that thought, his phone received a text.

It was Joker. And a photo.

Bruce only debated opening it for a second.

The photo was of a door. With the apartment number. Below it was a time.

Bruce cursed. He knew he shouldn’t get too involved. He needed to keep a clear head when it came to Joker. The man was already making it difficult to say no to and was far too clever. But when that time rolled around, Bruce was knocking on the door in the photo, and being pulled inside by a grinning Joker, he knew it was a lost cause.

He was screwed.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce spent his next week swinging between being frustrated at the lack of evidence on whatever Falcone was planning next with her competition out of the way and teetering on being content due to his daily texts with Joker. Gordon shared his anger at Falcone, setting up men to try to gather information on the gang only ending up with no leads or dead cops. Mostly both. While Alfred encouraged the happiness, Bruce experienced through the daily texts from Joker and the semi-regular visits.

Bruce rarely had the upswing in emotions to go with the down. He had Joker to thank, and Alfred's constant teasing to remind him that he was little better than a schoolboy with a crush. It certainly didn't help that Bruce practically jumped to answer every message he received.

“Is that the mysterious caller, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked.

Bruce could see the proud smirk on Alfred's face from twenty feet away. He would be annoyed at it if his chest wasn't fluttering and he could barely stop the smile from appearing on his face. He turned away from Alfred, knowing whatever he saw most likely would make him lose his battle with that smile.

Joker had texted him a photo. Of Joker staring deadpan at the camera with Harley in the background. She had a hairbrush held like a microphone, eyes closed, and clearly in the middle of singing. Below the photo was text that simply read: _Save_ _me_.

“Will you be needing the address to a good flower shop, by chance?” Alfred inquired, now dusting closer to where Bruce stood.

“No,” Bruce answered, while typing out a response. “We aren't a couple.”

“I apologize for being forward,” Alfred said, though he didn't look sorry in the least. There were a few seconds of silence while Bruce continued tapping at his phone. Then, “You know, sir. There is a new restaurant opening in a month. Seems just the place Bruce Wayne should be at with a date.”

Bruce paused. He did need to make a public appearance soon as Bruce Wayne. He also had a charity event to promote in four months. A new place opening would give him the opportunity to remind the public he existed just in time to get the word out.

He also wouldn't mind seeing Joker dressed up and on his arm for the evening. Would he wear a suit to the dinner or a dress? What if he wore that cheap purple dress to it? The press would have a field day and they would surely make the front page.

Though, Bruce may have problems keeping his hands to himself if Joker went out in that.

“You're smiling,” Alfred taunted.

“I never smile,” Bruce replied, though he couldn't stop.

“My mistake, sir,” Alfred returned with his expression teasing once more. “Won't happen again.”

Bruce looked down at his phone and reread the message he typed: _What sort of hero would I be if I ignored your plight? Meet me downstairs in an hour._

Bruce hit the send button and left to get ready to meet Joker.

“Shall I take it you won't be home for dinner, sir?” Alfred called after him.

“Don't sound so happy about it,” Bruce said. “I might think you don't like me anymore.”

“Perish the thought.”

Bruce let out a surprised chuckle as he made his way down into the batcave to get dressed. He made it to the bottom step when Joker sent a reply message. It was another photo and Bruce eagerly opened it.

Joker was in the front, a pillow over his head, and an alarmed expression. In the back was Harley with Pam, and another woman. A short haired brunette. All were clearly singing or speaking loudly, smiles on their faces.

In the caption it read: _Hurry_. _They're_ _multiplying_.

Bruce was there in forty minutes flat. There were two men downstairs near the alley entrance. One was hidden by the shadow of the apartment doorway while the other was gesturing in a familiar way. Bruce almost didn't recognize Joker without the purple dress on.

Joker was wearing a torn pair of black trousers, with a purple shirt that had a yellow smiley face on it, and rainbow suspenders. His combat boots had bright green laces and looked well worn. On anyone else Bruce would think the combination of clothes odd, but on Joker, it fit.

Bruce pulled up slowly as he saw Joker was talking to the other person. Most likely another tenant at the apartment. The cigarette smoke coming from Bruce's blind spot. He was glad the batmobile had stealth and was quiet enough to not draw any attention.

Joker frowned at whoever he was speaking to and shook his head. He leaned back and turned to look down the alley. He spotted Bruce quickly after that, giving a small smile at Bruce then wrapping up his conversation. Joker practically skipped to the car and hopped in.

“My knight in shining armor!” Joker announced, throwing himself at Bruce. Bruce readily accepted the kisses offered, pulling Joker across the console and into his lap.

They had only been separated for two days but Bruce had already started to miss the taste of Joker’s lips, and the weight of him. They played games, trying to rouse each other. Joker often won those games though when they ended with Bruce pinning Joker to a bed, it felt like a win. He also hadn’t made it easy for Joker to get back to work, biting his neck each time and never letting those marks heal.

Though Joker never asked him to stop, so Bruce kept doing it.

“Is this the thanks you give to all the heroes?” Bruce asked jokingly.

“Only the Bat kind,” Joker replied with a grin, straddling Bruce's lap. He took a moment and then, “Unless of course, you mean Superman.”

Bruce’s hands tightened on Joker's hips unconsciously. He knew Joker was trying to make him envious. He knew it was a ploy. The start of one of their games. That didn't stop the white-hot streak of jealousy that shot through his body.

“Is that so?” Bruce practically growled.

“Hmm,” Joker hummed, so close to breaking his game. His voice was full of mirth when he said, “Though, don't worry Batsy. You're my _favorite_.”

Bruce was ready to teach Joker a lesson about trying to make him jealous and the repercussions of his actions when his cowl beeped. Bruce stiffened as he was reminded of his Batman role and had to gently push Joker back to answer the call.

“Yes?” Bruce asked.

“Batman, I think we have a lead on the man who calls himself Deadshot,” Gordon said quickly. Wherever he was, he was moving. Stairs most likely. “Patrol caught sight of a man matching his description at the old Rose Hotel on the east side. Might be nothing but it's the best we've got in weeks.”

 _Trap_ , Joker mouthed. Bruce had to agree.

“It sounds like a trap. He's too good to be spotted by accident after all these weeks. He would know I became active again. Try to lure me out,” Bruce reasoned, Joker nodding along, and Bruce squeezing Joker's hip in apology for the interruption.

“Makes sense. What do you want to do then?” Gordon asked.

Bruce looked up at Joker, who had a serious expression for once. Then, like a lightbulb coming on, he grinned.

“I might have something, give me a moment,” Bruce said, putting Gordon on mute.

“I can get in,” Joker said, practically giggling and bouncing in excitement. “I can get into the building no problem. No one looks twice at a hooker going into a seedy place in the middle of the night.”

“I'm not letting you risk yourself,” Bruce answered sternly.

“Oh please,” Joker scoffed. “This isn't _new_ to me. Going into places and gathering intel, is almost my bread and butter.”

That put an uncomfortable spin on Joker being an informant. Joker putting himself into harms way to gain information for Bruce was all too easy to imagine. Especially with the tip in Falcone. How often he did it was another issue.

“Do you… is that why some people hire you?” Bruce asked.

Joker shrugged.

“Information pays better than sex,” Joker answered. “With how many mob clients I have, is that really surprising?”

It wasn't surprising. Just uncomfortable to acknowledge. Bruce didn't like that his lover had the job of a hooker. While the jealousy picked up when Bruce was reminded other people had sex with Joker, it wasn't the sex that bothered Bruce. It was the risk. How dangerous his many clients were.

And Bruce didn't want to put him at in harm's way. But it was the best plan they had. And Bruce wanted to respect Joker’s offer of help. He unmuted his headset.

“Gordon, clear your men from the area,” Bruce said. “I’ll handle it personally.”

“Be careful,” Gordon said just as Bruce hung up.

Bruce eyed Joker who remained in his lap the whole time. Bruce cupped his jaw and lead Joker's lips to his own. He felt the man melt under him as Bruce deepened it, tasting Joker. He didn't want to stop, just pretend Gordon didn't call and drive them to a hideout where they could learn each other's body again, and again.

“I'm not gonna die, silly,” Joker said when they parted, a soft smile on his face.

“How do you know?” Bruce asked.

“Because I can't die without being on top at least once,” Joker mused with a wide grin. Then, he became serious at Bruce's frown. “Also, I know that building well. Thorne used it for private dealings, and I doubt Mr. Shooty knows about the dumbwaiter hidden behind that terrible portrait of Thorne's mother.”

“How do you know about it?”

“Thorne liked privacy,” Joker said with a shrug. “Never wanted anyone to know he liked it up the ass.”

Bruce didn't want that information and would pay someone to remove it from his brain.

“Exactly how many of your _clients_ are high ranking members of criminal organizations?” Bruce asked.

Joker grinned.

“If I told you, you’d definitely never let me out of this car again.”

That much was most likely true, as much as Bruce hated to admit it. He knew Joker was tough. The man held his own during their nightly activities, which Joker loved prodding Bruce to get rough. Not only that but Bruce had seen him defend Harley and weave his way around Falcone. It wasn’t that much of a stretch that Joker could easily talk his way in or out of any situation.

That didn’t mean Bruce had to like the plan. Though, the dumbwaiter had a lot of potential especially if Deadshot took residence in Thorne's old office. Which, going by his record, seemed right up his alley.

Bruce worked it all out in his head by the time they arrived at the hotel. He would send Joker in the plant a small explosive and radio in the dumbwaiter. Then get clear of the area. To prevent suspicions on Joker, Bruce would wait at least an hour before triggering the explosives, swooping into the large window when Deadshot was distracted, and beat him in hand to hand.

The plan was sound and put Joker at minimal risk. The only issue was, Joker pouted at his role being so small.

“Can't I take out at least one guy, or something?” Joker asked, frowning. “I feel like I'm not doing much.”

Bruce caressed Joker's cheek.

“You're doing the most important part,” Bruce assured. “And if it all goes to plan, we’ll still have a few hours after together.”

Joker perked up at the mention. He smirked at Bruce, leaned across the console, and gave him a kiss. It took a lot of strength in Bruce not to pull him into his lap. Instead Joker took the gadgets needed for the job, tucked them into the back of his trousers, and went into the building.

Bruce will never admit waiting for Joker to return was the most nerve racking ten minutes of his life. But he did return with a smile on his face, completely unharmed, and proud of himself. Bruce shared that pride and vowed to show him later.

The plan went off with only a small hiccup. There were armed men in the hallways of the building. When the explosion went off, distracting Deadshot from the window long enough for Bruce to smash through, the fire alarm was pulled. Bruce only had a moment to think it was Joker who did that, causing the armed men to divide their forces, as he engaged Deadshot. Who was actually decent at hand to hand combat.

The fight delayed Bruce long enough that an armed gunman got in the room. Bruce always hated hearing a gun going off, especially when he felt his armor absorb a shot before he rolled to cover. It might be why Bruce broke the man's nose when he disarmed him. Or why most of the gunmen ended up with a broken bone or two.

Either way, the plan was successful, and Gordon shook his hand as the GCPD shoved the various men into vans. Deadshot’s unconscious body was carried away. Bruce was shorter with Gordon than usual, wanting to get back to Joker. It didn't help that the whole time Bruce filled Gordon in on what occurred Joker watched him from the safety of the batmobile.

As soon as Bruce was inside, the door shut, and they were given limited privacy, Joker was on him.

“We did amazing!” Joker cheered between kisses. “You burst into that window above like a vengeful God. I saw it from the street.”

“You pulled the alarm,” Bruce said, trying to be angry about Joker putting himself at risk but it sounded more in awe. Joker grinned wildly at him.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, then his hand drifted lower, resting on Bruce's thigh. “I couldn't let them gang up in you.”

The sincerity in Joker's eyes is what broke Bruce. Joker was truly earnest in wanting to keep Bruce, who was covered in Kevlar, safe. He put himself at risk for Bruce, and Bruce didn't know what to do with the emotions that stirred.

There was only one way they communicated best.

Bruce pulled Joker to sit sideways in his lap and devoured him. With the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through his veins, Bruce drove Joker to the nearest hideout, all the while allowing Joker access to pull pieces of his armor off. He didn't bother going to the hideout further away, the one that was safe to have Joker know, instead blindly going to his main one. The one with the better shower. And the unbroken bed.

Joker had tossed off the chest piece, exposing Bruce’s skin to the air. Bruce was keeping his eyes on the road, but it became a challenge when Joker bit his nipple.

“You're going to pay for that,” Bruce growled, taking a sharp turn to dislodge the teeth. He could hear Joker cackling against his skin, as the bite turned into an open-mouthed kiss against him. Joker put his tongue flat against the bite and a delightful tingle spread from the area making Bruce moan.

Bruce was almost dizzy with arousal by the time they arrived. Joker being cruel and not touching any of the armor below Bruce's waist, leaving Bruce's erection trapped. Bruce picked Joker up as he exited the car, Joker letting out peels of laughter that echoed in the hideout, and Bruce dropped him on the bed.

Before Joker could make a comment, Bruce was on him. Bruce latched his teeth onto Joker's neck while using his hands to disrobe him. Joker arched his back, moaning and fingers gripping at Bruce's arms. It made it easier to pull the trousers off in one sweeping tug, Joker kicking off his boots, and Bruce only letting go long enough to remove Joker's shirt. They were naked in record time, Bruce groaning in satisfaction as their erections rubbed against each other and Joker caught his lips.

Bruce's fingers trailed down, over the bony hip and into the crease of Joker's ass, ready to start teasing the man when his fingers touched something hard. Bruce paused, startled at finding something other than soft flesh and the warm heat he expected. He pulled back, with Joker grinning at him, and lifted Joker's legs to see what was there.

Joker had a plug in. Custom, most likely. The end was bulbous and round with an engraved Bat symbol.

“How… how long,” Bruce asked, his face burning as he stared at the toy.

“Bought it a week after we first met,” Joker said proudly.

“No,” Bruce said, his breath shaking. He rubbed a finger against it, making Joker shudder in pleasure. “When did you put it in?”

“About ten minutes before you came to pick me up,” Joker's voice was husky as Bruce tapped, and played with the plug.

Bruce never in his life was so turned on. He could feel his already stiff cock become harder. Everything tightened as though on the edge of release, and Bruce was grasping at his control.

“You've had this in the whole time?” Bruce's voice was deeper, and he could see Joker's growing arousal at it.

“Want to know something even _better_?” Joker asked, near panting. “It has a remote. Was using it when you were in that building. Loved watching you fight those guys. You're incredible to watch. I could get off just seeing you do that. Nearly did. _Twice_. But I wanted my first time with this beauty to be _with_ you.”

Bruce almost couldn't decide what he preferred more. To pull the toy out, bend Joker in half, and fuck him or find the remote and watch Joker writhe in pleasure from it. Both were appealing in their own way. Bruce touched the toy once more, enjoying the moans he could easily pull from Joker with the simple action.

The possessive side of Bruce argued, why not both. Toy first, then take him while he's still recovering. Bruce reached into Joker's trousers, searching for the remote. He found it, a tiny thing. Only two buttons. Power and speed. It was perfect.

Bruce watched with rapt attention as he turned the toy on the lowest setting. Joker threw his head back, whining, and hips moving naturally against the stimulation. Bruce enjoyed listening to the chorus of Joker's pleasure mixed with the muffled vibrations of the toy buried in his body for a minute. But Bruce really ached to be where that toy was. Bruce caressed Joker’s hip, then roughly held him down from moving. Joker’s head snapped up at him, his pupils already blown, panting, flushed, and beautiful.

Bruce held up the remote, made sure Joker saw it in his hands, saw what he was about to do. The split second of realization hit Joker just before Bruce clicked it to the highest setting.

Joker was howling.

Bruce watched him twist, and writhe in pleasure, legs kicking out as though trying to crawl away from the sensation, and fingers grabbing the sheets tightly. It only took a few seconds at most before Joker was arched high off the bed, everything tensing, and he shook hard, his breath hitching. It was as though he were frozen for a second, only the sounds of the toy buzzing away, then it broke.

“Oh, _FUCK_!” Joker screamed, his eyes screwed shut, as he came hard across his whole body. Every release shot across his chest, and he cried in pleasure.

It was one of the most beautiful sights Bruce had ever seen.

Bruce was barely aware enough to remember to turn the toy off before it became painful. When he did, it was as though he hit the off switch in Joker as well. Joker collapsed, panting, tears streaming from his eyes, and his body shaking every few seconds as though still reliving the orgasm it just went through.

  Bruce leaned down and kissed Joker’s hip. He felt the trembling under his lips, and something purred in satisfaction deep inside Bruce. His fingers grasped the toy and slowly pulled it out. Bruce loved hearing the breathy moans coming from Joker as he did it, careful not to go too fast. He didn’t want Joker to be in any pain. He wanted to keep Joker on the edge of being over stimulated but not quite.

When the toy was completely released, Bruce put it and the remote on the table. He turned to look at Joker, who was no longer quivering, but his eyes were closed. Bruce could tell he wasn’t asleep. Just temporarily drained.

Bruce approached him and grabbed Joker’s ankles. Joker made sounds of protest as Bruce physically moved Joker to the middle of the bed and turned him on his side. Once Bruce was happy with the position, he pulled a small bottle of lube out from his belt and joined his lover.

“Can you take any more?” Bruce asked before kissing Joker’s temple and settling in behind Joker.

“ _Hmmm_ yeah. At this point I’m a bit of a rag doll though,” Joker answered, shifting his hips so he rubbed his ass against Bruce’s erection. Bruce hissed, which made Joker smile. He tipped his head back, clumsily grabbed one of Bruce’s hands to bring it to his chest, and his eyes opening slightly to stare glazed at Bruce. “Use me, Bats. Fuck me until you can’t anymore, then _fill me up_.”

Bruce didn’t know dirty talk did it for him until that moment. He only saw a glimpse of Joker’s grin before Bruce bit down on Joker’s neck, sucking hard at the skin, practically growling at the primal urge Joker awoke in him. Joker, the smug bastard he was, just laid limp, and let out beautiful moans as Bruce took him.

Bruce barely remembers working the lube over his shaft, but he must have since his push into Joker’s body was smooth. Bruce wrapped an arm around Joker, keeping his back pressed against Bruce’s chest, as Bruce snapped his hips forward. They both groaned when Bruce bottomed out in Joker, and Joker started muttering dirty words, phrases, and suggestions. Each one causing Bruce to lose a little more of his self-control.

The tension building in his groin grew with every thrust and filthy word spilling from Joker’s mouth. Bruce rolled on top of Joker, his whole body pressed tightly against him, and never lost his pace. Bruce just felt as though he couldn’t get close enough, as though there was more he could take. Bruce could feel the pressure building; he was seconds away from giving Joker what he asked for. He just needed a final push.

“I’m yours Bats,” Joker said just loud enough for Bruce to hear, as though he knew like he always did, what Bruce needed. “I’m _fuck_ I’m yours! Now _come_.”

And Bruce did.

Panting, trembling, and violently, Bruce thrusted as hard as he could, as deep as he could manage, and released inside Joker. He felt as though Joker’s body was draining him of everything he had, pulling his very being, and Bruce didn’t even think to fight against it. Welcomed it. He wrapped his arms around Joker, not minding the sweat, and cum between them, and held him as ecstasy flowed through him.

They laid together, just breathing for several minutes. There were no words spoken, just gentle caresses, and a warmth glowing in Bruce’s chest as Joker’s words echoed in his head. The words Bruce thought to himself but would never speak aloud. Having Joker say them made it even more real to Bruce.

Bruce wanted to nuzzle into Joker’s hair, feel the curls against his skin. The mood was dampened when Bruce remembered his cowl, why his face felt restricted, and the sweat gathered around his eyes. He was tempted to pull it off, if only to relieve his over warmed head of the thing.

That is when his stomach decided to announce it had been without food for nearly eight hours.

Joker began snickering so hard his body shook. Bruce grumbled, and tried to restrain him through cuddling him harder. It failed since Joker was thinner than Bruce and would always have a bit of wiggle room against him. He also rolled in Bruce’s arms and grinned at him.

“You know Bats,” Joker began, a hand patting at Bruce’s stomach that growled again. “We can go back to my apartment. Believe it or not, I have actual food there.”

It wasn't a bad idea. The other being Bruce having to drop Joker off while he went home alone to reheat whatever Alfred left him. Which wasn’t ideal. And Alfred may have not made him anything out of spite. A way to tell Bruce he shouldn’t be home until morning.

“I’d like that,” Bruce answered.

Joker grinned at Bruce and lifted an arm. Bruce thought it was to touch him or pull him in for another kiss. Instead, Joker reached past Bruce and grabbed the toy. He held it up for Bruce to see with a mischievous grin on his face, and a cocked eyebrow. Then, he brought it behind him, and Bruce could only stare as Joker plugged himself.

“You thought I was going to carry it in my pocket?” Joker asked with a chuckle. “Besides, I asked you to fill me, and I’m not letting any of it out until I get you home, and you can do it again.”

It was some kind of miracle that they even made it to Joker’s apartment after that. There was only so much Bruce could take before he would be driven mad by the giddy man or be in desperate need of rest. At this point in Bruce’s life, he’s pretty sure both will occur. Mostly likely at the same time.

Joker brought Bruce up the back entrance to the apartment building. It was late into the night, most likely somewhere around four in the morning. There was a small risk to coming here as Batman. Leaving would be difficult unless Bruce went out the window. Which he’s done before to avoid Harley.

“ _Shit_ ,” Joker muttered, patting at his pockets. “I think I left my keys in the apartment.”

“Do you want me to lock pick it?”

“Nah,” Joker said with a shrug. “Harley’s most likely still awake at this hour. The girls would have left not too long ago if I know their habits.”

Joker tapped on the door and waited. There was a sound as though something broke. Then a pair of feet scrambled inside the apartment and the door swung open to reveal Harley, in baby blue pajama pants, a red tank top, and a furious expression.

“You aren’t supposed to be out so late!” She hissed, pointing a sharp finger at Joker’s face. “Who am I supposed to call if _you_ go missing, _huh_? The cops? _Pfft_!”

Joker held his hands up in surrender. It was a miracle that their neighbors weren't already complaining as Harley wasn't being quiet. When Harley opened her mouth to keep yelling at him, Bruce decided to speak up.

“It’s my fault,” Bruce said, causing Harley to look over and see Bruce in his very impressive batsuit.

Her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide as she looked him up and down. There were a few seconds in which no one spoke, then Harley just shuffled aside.

“Ya… apology accepted,” she replied, grabbing Joker by the forearm. She yanked him inside, leaving the door open for Bruce. She turned to Joker, but her eyes never left Bruce. “What is _Batman_ doin’ at our place?”

“He needs to eat, Harl,” Joker replied with a shrug. “Besides, I own half the apartment. I get to invite people.”

“He ain’t _people_ ,” Harley whispered, though Bruce could clearly hear her as he stepped in and shut the door behind him. “He’s a bat.” 

Joker started chuckling at that and patted a hand onto Harley's, which was still gripping him tight.

“Oh, Harley, you worry too much,” Joker said still laughing.

Harley eyed him seriously, then she got a good look at Joker's neck which had fresh bites on it. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Her head turned from Joker, to Bruce, then back to Joker. She slowly released her hold on Joker even though she looked as though she wanted nothing more than to hold him closer.

“You two are a thing, huh?” she asked, far calmer than Bruce thought she would be.

Joker shrugged and went over to the kitchen. He, apparently, was done having this conversation. Bruce was left in the small entry with Harley, and she stared at him. Bruce wanted to move past her, but he would either have to push her, or she would have to move. Neither seemed like good options so Bruce stood still and waited.

“So,” Harley started, crossing her arms. “What are your intentions towards Mr. J?”

Bruce had to admire her ability to put him on the spot. There was a new respect for her since she was standing up to Batman for her friend. He worried when Joker seemed to not have anyone who concerned themselves over his well-being. Though, Bruce also had a hard time taking her seriously with her short stature, and bunny slippers.

“Good intentions, I assure you,” Bruce responded finally.

Harley tapped her foot, leaning in, and glaring at him.

“I want you to know B-man, I have my eye on you,” she warned.

“Harl!” Joker snapped from the kitchen, making Harley jump. “Stop pestering him.”

Harley turned and walked into the kitchen, but not before throwing one last glare at Bruce. She sat on one of the stools at the small counter separating the kitchen from the living area.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Harley explained. “After all, he's already making you lose work.”

“I have savings,” Joker said with a shrug. He was wearing a ridiculous frilly apron that matched the pot holders and towels in the tiny kitchen as he tested the pan. “You're the one who can't make rent most months.”

“I thought you weren't gonna bring that up!”

“I play dirty when I have to,” Joker replied with a smirk. “Speaking of dirt, how's Pam?”

Harley’s whole face turned red and stuck her tongue out at Joker for the comment. Joker grinned and began laughing, which made Harley throw her arms up. They watched as she grabbed a laptop from the couch then went into the back bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Joker shrugged and continued his work.

“Would it be better if I left?” Bruce asked, his gaze on the closed door.

“Stay,” Joker said, leaning over to grab Bruce’s wrist. He tugged Bruce into the space, pulling out a stool for him to sit. Bruce accepted.

“I don’t want to cause any more stress,” Bruce commented.

“Oh, don’t worry about Harley. She doesn’t have the best record with authority, the poor dear,” Joker explained as he pulled out a carton of eggs, a grater, and a block of cheese. He grinned. “I hope you like cheese omelets!”

“I do,” Bruce responded just as his stomach growled again. Though, he was bothered by the comment about Harley's girlfriend. “Why did that comment upset her?”

“Oh, the dirt?” Joker said, breaking an egg into the pan. “Pam is in school to be a botanist. Spends her day in gardens and planters. Practically bathes in the stuff and she comes straight here after school sometimes. So, you can imagine one-night Harley was going down on her when-"

“I get the picture,” Bruce interrupted.

“I bet,” Joker chuckled.

They kept talking, just idly chatter, as Joker made food. Bruce was surprised at how good the omelets were, having Joker make him two more. Joker grumbled about running out of eggs but made them all the same. Once they finished eating, Joker pulled a tiny remote from his pocket and slid it over to Bruce.

“Ready for round two?” he asked with a grin.

Bruce picked it up with a matching smirk.

“Get to bed,” he ordered.

Joker giggled as he hurried to follow, and Bruce stalked close behind. They didn't stop until the sun peaked through the windows and their bodies gave out to sleep.

Bruce woke up in Joker's bed with a hand caressing the thin scar left behind by the knife wound he received last month. Bruce opened his eyes to see Joker frowning at the mark, his hair still ruffled from sleep, and his bottom lip a little swollen from Bruce's kisses.

“Morning,” Bruce said, stirring Joker who smiled.

“Morning darling, though it is closer to noon,” Joker leaned in and gently kissed the scar. “I didn't notice how many you had until today.”

“Hazards of the job,” Bruce relaxed and allowed Joker to inspect the rest of his body.

Joker's hands trailed down Bruce's torso, pausing at each mark. There were a few scattered around, luckily not many bullet wounds. Bruce had increased his armor to compensate for straight on shots to any of his vitals. The majority were from blades of some sort. They were much more difficult to prevent from finding the gaps in his armor.

Joker went lower, his fingers going over a long scar across Bruce's hips.

“Did you get into a sword fight?” Joker asked in humor.

“Yes,” Bruce responded. “My old sword master didn't take kindly to me not killing.”

“I take it he tried to kill you for that,” Joker said, tilting his head. His voice was musing, “It's a wonder you ever trust anyone.”

Joker traced the scar from the front of Bruce's hip all the way to the back. Bruce had to lift himself slightly to allow Joker to find the end. Joker hummed, then moved to Bruce's thigh. Where the skin was still pink from healing.

“Deadshot did this one,” Joker stated. He was far gentler with this one, only tracing the healthy skin around it. “For a man who never misses, he has bad aim.”

“I wasn't the target,” Bruce answered, his mind sharpening as he woke up.

It was an idle conversation, something that should have been easy. Relaxing. That would be if Bruce's mind didn't work constantly. Putting pieces together and showing him a picture he didn't like. There were only a few ways one would know Deadshot’s boost of never missing a shot. Bruce had to dig that information up on blacklisted websites.

Bruce could write it off as something Falcone bragged about to Joker when he spent the night with her. It was possible, but unlikely. She was careful. She trusted no one. The fact that Joker knew her plot, the day, and target was suspicious.

The fact that he knew everything else was nearly overwhelming, no matter the cover.

“Joker,” Bruce began slowly. “How much do you really know about Deadshot?”

“Rumors for the most part,” Joker said easily, his eyes still on the healing flesh. “He's the best of the best. Used to be in the army or special forces, like everyone who claims to be skilled.”

“And what about the non-rumors?” Bruce's hand tightened in the sheets.

There was a stillness in Joker that Bruce hadn’t seen before. It suddenly reminded Bruce of the night he was injured, and Joker’s whole personality turned when they were interrupted. Bruce didn’t forget the moment, nor did her forget all the other times Joker somehow knew something he shouldn’t. How Joker smooth talked his way through things.

How he knew Deadshot was the one who shot Bruce when Bruce hadn’t said anything about it. It didn’t even exist on the police report. He only told Alfred.

Joker sighed, his hands returning to his lap. His shoulders were hunched, and his eyes wouldn’t meet Bruce.

“Bats,” Joker began. “There’s something else I… well… it’s a _funny_ story really, when you think about it. A true-blue joke, if I’m honest, and if there’s one thing I know its good comedy! You know, with my _name_ and all that.”

“Joker,” Bruce sat up, and cupped Joker’s face, disturbed that Joker trembled. Bruce had to fight the urge to pull him into a hug, to tell him he didn’t need to know, that they could forget about it. But Bruce was smart enough to know, whatever this was would eat at them until it was said.

Joker took a deep, calming breath, his hands coming up to rest on Bruce’s wrists as though to reassure him the Bruce was still there. Then, he started.

“I wasn’t lying about being a sex worker, I am. It’s the only thing… well… that paid and allowed me freedom. Not the best reasoning for doing it, but it’s mine,” Joker nuzzled his face into Bruce’s hands, and Bruce swiped his thumbs on his cheeks. It was a small sign of affection and appeared to give Joker strength to continue. “I got the typical customers to start. Made enough money to eat. Then, one customer came up, who _talked_. He wouldn’t stop telling me how he planned on taking over Gotham’s streets, how he was moving up in the ranks, and how everyone was gonna fear him one day. Problem was, his whole _big plan_? _Pfft_. It was AWFUL!”

“He wanted to kill people?”

“Oh yeah, but that wasn’t the awful part,” Joker was on a roll now, as though those memories were up front. He didn’t seem to notice how Bruce tensed. “His plan was just _bad_. Strategically. There was no way it could be pulled off, and not only that, it was gonna get him killed like the idiot he was. I told him that and when he stopped hitting me,” - _Bruce clenched his teeth at the thought-_ “he asked me what _I_ would do. So, I told him. I gave him the whole thing, and weird thing was… he _listened_.”

“When was this?”

“Three years ago,” Joker answered, his eyes still not meeting Bruce’s. “It was the takeover of the rail station which led to the black-market smuggling down at the docks.”

Bruce remembered that night. It was the first time Bruce was confused by how a small-time crook got the better of everyone. The man wasn’t even a blip on Bruce’s radar until then. That was when it all changed, and he became one of the biggest crime lords in the city.

“You helped _Oswald Cobblepot_ become the Penguin,” Bruce’s voice was shaking slightly, his fingers holding Joker a little tighter. “That was how you knew his operations. The tunnel. _Everything_.”

“Yeah,” Joker sounded defeated. “After the first time when I gave him the plan, he came back for more… advice. Again, and again. Started offering me more money to turn away clients so I'd be available. But he made it too obvious, so others started coming around. They'd pay me, and I'd listen to their ideas. Then just… tell them how to do it better. Then more showed. Until…”

“Until you had every criminal in Gotham following your plans,” Bruce answered for him.

Joker didn't deny it, just nodded, and Bruce felt something cold dropping in his stomach. There was an itch to his skin, as though everything was too tight around him, even though he was still naked. There was only one thing going around in Bruce’s mind.

The man he was falling for, had been ready to tear his mask off for, was a criminal mastermind.

The only saving grace of the situation was, it started out by mistake, if Joker was to be believed. That this man, who found Bruce as Batman, tugged him along with information, and flirted until they bedded, could be trusted. A man capable of coming up with plans that left dozens murdered, and chaos in its wake.

That lied. How far did it go?

Bruce remembered the White Rose. How everything seemed to be going well. Then, a fire broke out, Thorne died, and Bruce ended up with a bullet in his thigh. A wound that Joker seemed to fixate on. One he apologized for. As though _he_ did it.

Or felt guilty about.

“Did you know they were going to set the White Rose on fire?” Bruce asked.

This was the first time Joker looked as sick as Bruce felt. And in a flash, Bruce remembered seeing the purple figure in the crowd. Joker… he was there.

Bruce couldn’t hear anymore. He knew what Joker just confessed to, and what Bruce should do by law. He should drag Joker down to the GCPD and have him arrested. Take away the mastermind of the criminals. Based on prior history, they would fall apart without him. Bruce could get the streets back under control with Joker locked away. Behind bars.

But he couldn’t do that.

Instead, Bruce got up without another word, dressed himself as quickly as he could while ignoring Joker’s pleas. Even as Joker curled into himself on the bed and started to cry as he watched Bruce dress. Even when it hurt to open the bedroom window and leave. Even when he received a single text from Joker that just said _I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me_.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce didn't remember the drive home or parking in the batcave. His mind was whirling at a hundred miles an hour, reliving every second he spent with Joker. Every word, look, or pause. The evidence was gathering, and Bruce forced himself not to force a conclusion. It was basic detective work and if he attempted to stir his findings, he would be doomed to never have the truth.

Bruce's body was on auto pilot. He only knew that as he became aware of what he was doing as he stood in the shower, hot water spraying on him, and a bottle of shampoo in his hand. He was still in the batcave and Bruce was relieved for it.

He didn't want to face Alfred. He couldn't answer questions and being teased for spending the night out might break whatever fragile thread was holding him together.

Bruce closed his eyes instead and finished his shower in the quiet of the cave. He wrapped himself in a warm robe and paced as he allowed his brain to work, to focus. There was only one conclusion.

He needed more information.

Bruce sighed, his mind finally running its course enough that he could start making decisions. He picked up his phone, hating himself for hesitating to check for messages. He wasn't a coward, but he didn't like pain, and this _hurt_.

A lot.

Bruce hit the power, letting the phone turn on, and felt something clench in his stomach. Joker hadn't left him any more messages or calls. Just the last one he sent. Simple, and to the point. Desperate.

Bruce knew better than to engage someone while he was hurting. His therapists growing up all told him he had anger issues when he was upset. That it was better to back off and approach later when his head was clear. Bruce didn't often take the advice but now, it sounded like the best option. He was already so out of his depth he was willing to try.

Bruce worked on a message, deleting and canceling several. All either said too much or too little. One sounded accusatory which wasn't helpful to anyone. It took far longer than it should, but Bruce got it down.

It read: _I need time to think. We will talk later. I promise._

Bruce sent it and waited. Within a minute, he got a reply.

 _Thank_ _you_ _Bats_

Bruce sunk down in his computer chair as he felt the weight leave. His body was weak, and he didn't have the strength to go upstairs. Instead, he turned to his computer and began researching.

He was going to figure Joker out one way or another.

This was just like solving any other case. Bruce spent hours, ignoring everything around him, and digging through digital files. He went through the housing records of Gotham, looking for the contract signed to the apartment Harley shared with Joker. It showed only Harley’s name on it, which wasn’t helpful. It was also marked that she was the only occupant, even though Bruce knew that wasn’t true.

The apartment itself was simple, but there were touches that were so uniquely Joker. The purple curtains hanging in his room’s windows. The Christmas lights strung across the black ceiling that made the room look like the night sky when laying on the bed. The mirror in the room had a smiley face drawn on with the same red lipstick Joker wore when he was working. Clothes tossed over every available surface. A notch in the wall, from what Bruce could tell was the batarang Joker stole from him the first time they met.

The room was lived in. It smelled of Joker.

So, there must be a reason Joker was not on the contract or listed as a renter.

That made Bruce worry.

He dug through Harley’s records instead, trying to find out where she had come from. Perhaps, if Bruce found out her information, he could discover where they had met. Tie something from there. It was a slim chance, as they were both sex workers, they could very well have met on the street. But it was the best lead he had.

Harleen Quinzel was a drop out from Gotham University, and Bruce had to double check on what her primary study was. Psychology. She was going to be a psychiatrist. Two years into the program, she started working her needed volunteer hours at Arkham Asylum. Five months before she was set to graduate, she was kicked out of the program, and fired from Arkham.

For aiding a patient’s escape.

Bruce felt as though the floor dropped out from under him. The patient escaped four years ago. Male.

Bruce only hesitated for a second before breaking into Arkham’s secure files.

Bruce spent hours pouring over the patient files, looking up individual sessions, security footage, and researching the medicine they had him on. Every file was worse than the previous. Each drawing up their own horror and making Bruce feel ill. There was a lot to comb over, a lot of contradictory information, and more than a few instances where even Bruce was having difficulty deciphering what had occurred.

“I didn’t hear you come in, sir,” Alfred’s voice cut through Bruce’s concentration like a knife.

“I think this warranted my attention,” Bruce said, not bothering turning around. He could feel Alfred get closer and hear the hitch in his breath as he read the document.

“Indeed,” Alfred responded. “I take it you’ll be having dinner in the cave then?”

“Shit,” Bruce said, pulling up his phone. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

He didn’t have any missed calls, or texts outside Lucius informing him that he better be on time for Monday. Bruce responded to him and put his phone down after. It was far too tempting to read his texts with Joker. To scroll through their history and put new context to them.

“If you don’t mind my asking, who is this man?” Alfred questioned.

Bruce stared at the long file along with the photo. The pale skin, green hair, and splitting grin in an Arkham uniform. Bruce could see the flecks of yellow in his green eyes, just like that night so long ago. When Bruce first realized he was attracted to Joker.

“Honestly Alfred,” Bruce began, his voice quiet. “I’m not sure.”

Bruce spent the next two days hunched over the computer, reviewing case files, and police records. It was as though pulling at one thread only revealed a dozen more. Each were connected, a pattern was forming the more Bruce looked, and the picture was becoming clear to him. There were still things he could not gain from cold case files, raw computer data, or grainy security footage. Bruce would get his answers, he just had to be patient on it.

The days of sitting stagnant had left his back aching and Bruce had to go to his gym just to warm his muscles up. By the time he had completed that, his body was itching for movement, to glide across the night sky in his suit but his mind was wary. The first night he gave into being back on the streets, avoiding Joker’s area. The next, he grabbed his phone, and pulled up his recent conversation with Joker.

Joker had left him to think. Gave him time. Bruce learned more about Joker in the last day than he had the two months they’ve known each other. It wasn’t surprising since they hardly knew much about one another. Bruce never giving out any personal details, and Joker… Joker spoke a lot, but he never talked about himself. He talked about other people, their lives, what happened with them. It was a tic Bruce had taken notice of but thought harmless. Until today.

Now Bruce knew the truth.

His phone buzzed which drew Bruce out of his own thoughts. It was a text from an unknown number. Bruce opened it.

_Yo B-Man. It’s Harley. Meet me at his spot in two hours or I’ll find you myself. You got it?_

Bruce read it twice to make sure he read it right. After everything he learned today, this was a perfect opportunity. He could glean that last bit of information he needed before talking to Joker. Though, he knew for a fact that Joker wouldn’t like them talking about him. Especially after what had occurred.

Bruce only hesitated long enough to form a plan.

_I got it Harley._

Bruce made it there in less than an hour. He staked out the area making sure there wasn't an ambush or any people wandering circles, clearly waiting for Batman to show. The streets had the typical people going to clubs or running out to the store for last minute items. The area near Joker's spot was always surprisingly quiet.

Bruce had his suspicions on why that was now, and he was angry at himself for not seeing it sooner.

At the time to meet, Bruce saw Harley approaching. She was wrapped up in a long trench coat, clutching the lapels to keep it shut, and shaking as she walked. She appeared nervous. Bruce looked up the street, watching for anyone following her.

There was one guy tailing her. A blonde man with his hands shoved into his pockets, wearing a white blazer, and a cigarette dangling from his lips. Bruce recognized him instantly as Jonny. The man who Bruce watched with Joker in the alley.

Jonny wasn't watching Harley; he was scanning the streets. He was acting like a bodyguard.

Interesting.

Harley waited be the alley entrance, fidgeting with her coat, and jumping at the shadows. Bruce waited a minute, watching the patterns of Harley's movement, worrying there was something under the coat. When he saw her start to cry, Bruce's will broke.

“Harley,” he greeted.

Harley jumped at the sound of his voice, arms wrapping around her ribs, and gasping. This close, Bruce could see the black eye forming on her face, and how scared she looked.

“She got him,” Harley said without preamble. She got close to Bruce and hit his chest with a balled-up fist. Then again. “She got him, and it's your FAULT!”

Bruce held Harley's wrists as gently as he could. She tried to free herself, but Bruce was far stronger. If she kept hitting his armor, she would only hurt herself, not him, and he told her as much. He let her shake and cry until she calmed enough to breath properly.

“Now,” Bruce began. “Tell me what is going on.”

“You got a lot of nerve, ya know?” Harley said, her words slightly deformed from her sniffling. “Tellin' me you've got good intentions and then breaking his heart like that the next day. Couldn't even wait 24 hours!”

“Tell me who has him,” Bruce stressed. He nodded towards her face. “Is it the same person who gave you that?”

“No, that was one of her thugs,” Harley said with a scoff. “Wasn't even important enough for her to smack.”

There was no doubt in Bruce's mind who the woman was. Only Falcone had the motive and the power to do this. Which meant, Joker was in a lot of trouble.

“What happened.”

Harley took another stabilizing breath and told him. Joker was taken by Falcone for helping Batman with Deadshot. Harley was there and tried to stop them, getting hurt in the process. She only got out because Jonny was near by and took her to safety. When she texted Bruce for help.

Bruce moved to get back to his car when Harley grabbed his arm.

“I’m going with you,” she said.

“It’s not safe.”

“To hell with safe! Mr. J is in trouble,” Harley argued, glaring at Bruce. “Either we go together, or I’ll just follow after you and do it my way.”

After some arguments, Bruce agreed to take Harley with him to Falcone's hideout. Bruce also wanted some clarification on Joker and while he drove them. It kept his mind from lingering on the cold fear that something bad was happening to Joker.

“Jonny works for Joker, doesn't he?” Bruce asked. Jonny had watched Bruce and Harley get in the Batmobile, only leaving when they drove off.

“Guess you know everything, huh,” Harley answered with a shrug. “Ya, Jonny works for Mr. J. Him and about twenty others. Jonny is the only one decent with a gun. Got a bad back or something and can't do dock work like the others. So, Mr. J pays him for security.”

“What does he pay the others for?”

“Doesn't really,” Harley answered. “Mr. J's contacts need laborers sometimes for different things. Mr. J sends them where they need to be, and whoever they do the work for, pays them.”

“What if they don't pay?”

“That's what Jonny's for,” she answered plainly. “Besides, they don't pay, Mr. J doesn't answer them no more. They know better than to screw over anyone under Mr. J.”

Bruce thought over his first interaction with Joker. How he staked out Penguin's club for months. If Joker had him as a client, it didn't make sense to turn Batman on him. But Joker did.

“Is that what Cobblepot did?” Bruce asked. “Not pay someone?”

“Yeah,” Harley answered; her voice flat. “Something like that.”

They pulled up near Falcone's mansion. The place was nearly a fortress and worked as the main hideout for Falcone's gang for decades. Bruce was both impressed and annoyed when Harley hopped out of the car, walked up to the armed men, and demanded entrance. The men were unimpressed with the fierce woman, but they were distracted. Which was good for Bruce.

Knocking out guards was always easier when they weren't paying attention.

“I was handling it,” Harley complained.

“I handled it faster,” Bruce responded, leading them inside the mansion.

The place had winding hallways and security cameras at every corner. There was more than once where Bruce had to prevent Harley from walking in front of one. Bruce was annoyed that Harley came with because they were slower. Bruce would have swept the whole place by now, but he had to admit, she did work as an amazing distraction for any passing guard.

There was only one room Falcone would have Joker in. The main ballroom to the mansion Falcone called home. Bruce didn't like that he had to walk through double doors.

“Get behind me,” Bruce advised, making sure Harley was clear if guards opened fire.

Bruce pushed the doors open and felt his stomach drop.

They were waiting for him. There were at least twenty men, all armed, in the room in various points. They blocked all the exits, their barrels pointed at Bruce as soon as he entered. He didn't need to look down to know his chest was lit up with red dots. They were the least of his worries, as his eyes focused on the two figures in the middle of the room.

Falcone, dressed in a pinstripe suit, furred collar, and looking smug. She had a gold-plated revolver in her hand pointed at the kneeling figure at her feet.

“Mr. J!” Harley shouted, attempting to push her way past Bruce to get to Joker. Bruce grabbed her arm, halting her. Half the guns went to Harley, and Bruce had no doubt they would fire if Harley moved any closer.

“Well, this is certainly unexpected,” Falcone began as she watched Harley struggle. “I had little doubt you'd come Batman, but the little nurse? That's a surprise.”

“I was a doctor,” Harley snarled, trying to wrench herself from Bruce's hold. “And you're gonna need one when I get through with you!”

Falcone started chuckling, her calculated eyes watching Bruce. This was a game of chess and Falcone was holding more pieces. Any wrong move could be the end and Bruce hated that his mind wasn't completely focused. He couldn't be with Joker having a gun on him.

Joker had his wrists tied together and was kneeled at Falcone's feet. There was dried blood across his nose and running down his face. It didn't look broken, but Bruce couldn't be sure until he examined it closer. His mouth was duct taped shut with multiple layers to prevent any sound from leaving. There was a blossom of red across Joker's cheek in the shape of a hand, purpling at four points where nails would be.

Bruce clenched his fists as Joker and his eyes met.

“I hope you haven't fallen for the poor whore in distress act,” Falcone said with a sneer. “You've had time. I would doubt your intelligence if you haven't figured him out.”

“I know who he is,” Bruce said, his voice as steady as he could manage with the anger festering in his chest.

“Then you'll understand the predicament he puts me in,” Falcone continued, her gun never leaving Joker's head. “Anyone who holds him, holds Gotham's underworld in their palms. Issue is, he's insane.”

Falcone pushed the barrel of her gun against Joker's head, making him bow further to avoid it digging into his skull. Bruce ignored Harley and watched Joker's eyes which never left Bruce's. There was a lot of emotions playing there but fear wasn't one of them.

“How do you know he's insane?” Bruce asked.

“If you know him, you'll get why,” Falcone answered. “He's the escaped patient from Arkham that Miss. Quinzel over there let go after he convinced her they were in _love_.”

“That's not true!” Harley protested, giving up on trying to free herself from Bruce's grip. “We _are_ in love. We just didn't realize it was friendship not romantic until later. But that doesn't mean it ain’t real.”

“You hear this, Batman?” Falcone asked with a cruel smirk. “He has her wrapped around his finger. She was only the first of his victims. He's got nearly all of Gotham's underworld under his spell. Penguin still protests that Joker would never turn on him despite all the evidence. Riddler is beside himself thinking he must have failed. I bet Jonny and his boys are running themselves mad trying to find this whore. I bet he worked his way under that armor of yours.”

Bruce had to force himself to relax as Harley winced when his grip tightened. The men in the room were still tense and any wrong move could cause them to pull a trigger. Falcone, however, was loving it.

“He almost had me convinced of his loyalty. He can be quite charming, can't he?” Falcone reached out a hand and ran it through Joker's hair. She gripped it tight into a fist and yanked his head back, exposing his throat with all the bruises. Falcone eyed them. “Your work, I take it?”

Bruce refused to answer. He just narrowed his eyes.

“Strong, silent type aren't you,” Falcone mocked.

“I already said I know who he is. I thought I made myself clear, but I can tell you like to hear yourself talk,” Bruce said dryly.

Falcone, for the first time since Bruce entered the room, dropped her smile. She held eye contact with Bruce for a few tense seconds then released Joker's hair. She straightened herself and pulled the hammer back on her revolver.

“You should know better than to insult me,” Falcone said.

“Insult you?” Bruce asked, his eyes going to Joker. Joker gave him a wink. The message was clear. “If I wanted to do that, I'd point out how you've been played.”

The room grew silent.

“What are you talking about?” Falcone hissed.

“You may have the gun to Joker's head, but make no mistake, he's holding all the cards,” Bruce said, his chest clenching when Falcone's finger adjusted on the trigger. It was time to lay the trap. “He played _both_ of us.”

 _Hook_.

Falcone straightened and her eyes widen.

“How so?” she asked, her eyes now on the back of Joker's head.

 _Line_.

“Let me guess, he wandered out of the apartment with only Harley, and no one else when you found him,” Bruce guessed. “And instead of killing Harley, he dropped a hint she could contact me, which made you set this whole thing up to join forces.”

She gritted her teeth.

 _Sinker_.

“Son of a bitch,” she cursed. She pushed the gun further, her eyes narrowing at Joker. “I should blow his head off right now.”

“Then we'd all die,” Bruce said and turned to Harley who was shaking at this point. “You want to show everyone what you have under your trench coat?”

“What the hell?” Harley asked, forgetting about everyone in the room as all the guns now pointed at her.

Bruce turned back to Falcone.

“Joker had her wear a bomb. He dies, she triggers it. She dies, it triggers immediately,” Bruce explained. “You are right. He does have her trained.”

Falcone glanced between Bruce and Harley. Bruce gave her nothing while Harley clutched her trench coat, glaring at the mobster. With a sigh, Falcone lowered her gun.

“So, he put us in a stand off,” she said, almost admiring. “And you brought Miss. Quinzel here even when you knew she had a bomb.”

“I like having options.”

Falcone laughed and the tension broke in the room. Bruce could tell many of the armed men were growing tired of holding their guns. He needed them further relaxed.

“I may have misjudged you,” Falcone said. “Now, it comes down to what we want out of this situation. Apparently, I'm not going to be able to blow his brains out like I want to.”

“If you wanted that, you wouldn't have agreed to have me here,” Bruce countered. “You want information.”

“You are good,” Falcone said with a shrug. She put her revolver away and slowly pulled out a cigar. One of the armed men to her right hastily lit it for her. “I want to know what he has on you and who you are.”

“I'm Batman,” Bruce answered, his eyes narrowing. “I thought the costume gave it away.”

Falcone smiled. It wasn't pleasant.

“I think you've been around him too long,” Falcone said, picking up a leg and stepping on Joker's back. She pushed him down until his stomach met the floor. “He never could stop himself from a witty come back.”

“Is that why his mouth is duct taped?” Bruce asked. “If you want information, he's going to need to speak.”

Falcone eyed Bruce and then Harley. She pulled out her revolver and pointed it at Joker's head once more.

“Let the failed doctor undo it,” Falcone said with her teeth showing.

Bruce knew there was no options left. As much as he wanted to grab Joker, there wasn't anything he could do. He looked at Harley, who had previously been heated to go after Falcone, now appear like a deer in headlights. Bruce slowly let her go and her hands reached out as though to grab Bruce.

“Go,” Bruce ordered.

Harley glared at him, holding her coat shut, and inched her way over to Joker. When she was within reach of him, she practically collapsed, and ripped the duct tape off.

“Mr. J speak to me,” she cried, cradling his face.

“Don't worry my dear,” Joker said in low tones. “Everything will be alright.”

At that moment, Falcone grabbed Harley's arm, hauled her to her feet, and ripped open the trench coat. All the men in the room stared as she was revealed to be wearing a pink nightie, almost see through, and nothing else. No wires, no bomb. Nothing.

Falcone laughed in triumph at her reveal, aiming her gun at Harley who whimpered.

“You're a fool for trusting these men,” she said with a cruel smile.

It was Joker’s turn to laugh.

“And you're an idiot for taking your eyes off Batman,” Joker announced.

They all glanced up to where Bruce used to be standing. It was empty. Before the men could react, the lights went out, and Joker laughed. Even as guns went off and the spark from them lit parts of the room up. Even as Harley clutched onto him in absolute terror as hot shells from fired bullets burned his skin.

Even as he used the hot shell to burn his ropes and wrapped his free hand around Falcone's throat.

Several nerve wrecking, intense fighting in the room where Joker managed to get Harley to safety, knock out Falcone, and Bruce managed the rest. When the fighting died down, Joker flicked the switch on to light up the room.

There were men dangling from the rails, several laying on the ground with limbs at odd angles, and in the middle of the room was Bruce, standing over Falcone. Joker glanced around the room, grinning. Most likely enjoying Bruce's show of anger.

“And you said you weren't fun,” Joker said with a giggle that made Bruce turn.

His anger wasn't done. Not everything he said to Falcone was a bluff. Joker had played them, that much was true. He had already proven himself to be a liar and manipulative. Joker's show of planning this event was a demonstration for Bruce.

That Joker could control the situation. And Bruce didn't like it.

Bruce pulled out a pair of cuffs and secured Falcone. He typed out a quick message to get Gordon down to the mansion and to arrest all the men currently unconscious. He started walking out of the room when Joker went to touch his shoulder. Bruce catch the wrist.

“I asked for time,” Bruce growled. “And you decided I was taking too long.”

“I didn't!” Joker protested. “Not really. I had this planned, yes. But not to trap you.”

Bruce hauled Joker out of the mansion with Harley in heel. Joker didn't argue, but he did stumble at Bruce's quick pace. Bruce opened his car and looked at Harley.

“Get in,” he ordered. Harley hopped in the car without complaint, shutting the door, and Bruce turned on Joker. “Why did you seek me out in the first place?”

Joker opened his mouth and closed it a few times. The blood caked on his face, and bruises made him appear pathetic. Bruce held firm though, even as his eyes scanned for broken bones.

“I just… I knew I wanted to meet you,” Joker said, his voice oddly quiet. “I saw you a few times, you know? Here and there. Just glimpses. But every time, I kept thinking I wanted to speak with you. Just once. And you'd know…”

“I'd know what?”

“It's… it's stupid,” Joker replied with a shrug, his eyes on the ground. “I used to think you'd only ever be around me if I could do something for you. But… even when I didn't have anything… you still…”

They both grew silent letting the words linger in the air. Bruce knew what Joker meant. Bruce had wanted to meet with Joker for information in the beginning, but it became something else faster than either had anticipated. Things had gotten out of hand and there was nothing Bruce could really do. They were at odds with each other. He couldn’t be Batman and date a criminal mastermind. It was far too tempting for Joker to use. To manipulate Bruce.

There was only one thing he could do. And it hurt.

“Batman can’t be with you, Joker,” Bruce said, the words clawed their way through even as his chest tightened. Joker’s widen expression didn’t help. “You can see that, can’t you?”

“No!” Joker protested. “No, y-you’re just being stubborn. I can get you every criminal. All of them! We can make this work, Bats… please.”

Bruce clenched his fists.

“That’s the problem right there,” Bruce said. “You’ll never stop trying to be part of this life. You’ll risk yourself… and me. Harley almost died tonight because of your plan.”

Joker’s eyes darted to Harley, who was hugging herself in the Batmobile. She looked fragile, afraid. Joker must have seen it too, as he looked near tears.

“I didn’t want her…” Joker began, wrapping his arms around his chest. “She helped me out once… but you know all about it, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Joker nodded his eyes lowered. There were no secrets to hold anymore for Joker. Not anymore. Bruce knew about the torture Arkham put Joker through. About how Joker fought back, only to be thrown in isolation. Bruce knew the records, the inhuman treatments, and how Harley was the only person willing to risk everything to save a man who didn’t even know himself.

And how Joker made money to pay Harley back. How he developed a need to make himself useful. To cope.

They both turned towards the street as the distance sirens echoed signaling the cops approaching. They only had a minute or two left in private.

“I won’t be stopping by for information anymore,” Bruce announced. “Don’t put yourself at risk for me ever again.”

Joker didn’t speak, but Bruce could see his nod. They remained silent as the cars pulled up and the officers swarmed the area. They each made statements, Joker was taken by Gordon to the station for a formal report. It was enough to arrest Falcone and all her men on the spot. A break the cops desperately needed. When asked why Falcone kidnapped Joker, he replied he was an informant, and nothing more.

Bruce left before he could do something stupid.

 The next week was miserable. Bruce would keep checking his phone as though waiting for something to appear from Joker. He would also start writing a text, only to delete it moments later when he came to his senses. Going out as Batman was a reprieve from the nervous energy he carried around, but it didn’t help that he would unconsciously go to patrol Joker’s area. The urge to reach out was great, and each passing day was only increasing.

The worst part was Bruce’s moods. He found himself snapping more at people and apologizing twice as frequently for it. Even Alfred was starting to comment on it, which is when Bruce knew it was becoming out of hand.

“Is something bothering you, sir?” Alfred inquired.

“No,” Bruce answered, flipping the newspaper perhaps a little harsher than intended as the page ripped. Alfred cocked an eyebrow at it and Bruce relented. “Maybe.”

“This wouldn’t have something to do with that mysterious caller you had, would it?” Alfred continued.

“We… I ended it,” Bruce said.

“ _Ah_ ,” Alfred came around the table, no longer pretending to put away various items. “I take it the split isn’t entirely wanted.”

“No,” Bruce shook his head. “I want to just… be with him. But, it’s for the best. His attention on Batman isn’t good for either of us. He’s… he wants to be needed and for Batman that means…”

“Putting himself in danger,” Alfred finished. When Bruce didn’t contradict him, he nodded. “Well, there’s only one thing to do in this situation.”

“And what’s that?”

“Why, introduce him to Bruce Wayne, of course,” Alfred said with a smirk. “I’m sure Bruce Wayne’s needs are less… dangerous than Batman’s.”

Bruce stared at Alfred and ran the scenario in his head. As Bruce Wayne there were only a few asks. Alfred took care of the manor. Fox took care of Batman’s gadgets and assisted with the company. The main concern for someone dating Bruce Wayne was to be seen in public and to go on dates. Even with is life as Batman, if he could get Joker to just focus on the Bruce Wayne side, it could work.

Or be a huge disaster. Which he voiced his concerns to Alfred, who only told Bruce to be brave, then grabbed the keys to the limo.

Bruce was almost delighted and dismayed when he found Joker on his spot. Joker was leaned against the brick wall, his head tilted back as though watching to evening sky. A man walked up to Joker, who Joker must have said something snark as the man huffed as he quickly left. Though, Bruce wasn’t sure if words could drive him away.

Joker was dressed in the purple dress and thigh high black boots. His green hair combed to the side, and that bright red lipstick in place.

“Is that him, sir?” Alfred asked.

“Yes.”

Alfred was silent for a few moments. Bruce worried his father figure was disapproving of Bruce’s choice. Though, Bruce should have learned better by now. He was raised by the man after all.

“You should have bought the purple flowers,” Alfred commented. “It would have complimented his attire better than the red roses.”

“Next time, Al,” Bruce said with a smile as he let himself out of the car.

Bruce felt foolish for standing on the street with half a dozen roses, in dark trousers, with a white button down. He was far too dressed up for the area. Despite being in the area more than a dozen times, sometimes in compromising positions with Joker, this felt far more embarrassing for Bruce. But when Joker glanced his way, the nerves melted away.

Bruce approached and almost froze when Joker gave him a once over, then looked back at the sky. It was clear Joker was dismissing him outright. Not interested in Bruce Wayne, even as Joker clearly recognized him as the billionaire. Joker was more interested in checking glimpses of Batman.

Bruce took a deep breath, then put one foot in front of the other.

“Hello,” Bruce greeted.

“Not interested.”

“You haven’t even heard my offer,” Bruce replied.

“Don’t need to,” Joker shrugged.

“What if it was twenty thousand dollars?”

“I can always get more money,” Joker said with a flat tone. “It practically grows on trees.”

“That’s not true,” Bruce said with a coy smirk. “If it did, I’d certainly know.”

Joker let out a weak chuckle but didn’t turn back to him.

Bruce would normally walk away from someone so clearly telling him no. The only difference here being Bruce knew Joker was interested. Joker just didn’t know this face and that was alright. Bruce had prepared for a battle. And seeing the fading bruises on Joker’s neck gave Bruce the courage to stand his ground.

“I bought these for you,” Bruce said, holding out the flowers.

Joker glanced down at the roses and scoffed.

“You buy all the hookers flowers?” Joker asked.

“Just the ones I plan to ask out on a date,” Bruce responded, keeping his tone light. He held out the flowers and waited.

Joker looked at them, up at Bruce, then back at the flowers. His eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms instead of taking them, then turned towards the sky once more.

“I don’t need flowers,” he answered.

Bruce lowered the flowers and reached into his back pocket. He purchased one other gift for Joker. One that Bruce desperately hoped Joker remembered discussing. Something only Batman would know. Bruce held out the velvet case large enough to display a necklace.

“How about this?” Bruce asked.

Joker turned once more to see the velvet box. Bruce could tell he was curious as he shuffled slightly against the brick wall. There was a mystery and Joker had told Bruce how much he loved them. Bruce held the box steady while Joker slowly uncrossed his arms and grabbed the box.

Joker eyed Bruce for a few seconds, then opened the velvet case. Whatever Joker was expecting, it clearly wasn’t what was inside as his eyes widen, and mouth dropped open. It was a collar.

Bruce had made Alfred drive to four different shops until he found one that he liked. This was a soft leather, dyed black, and hand crafted with smooth stitching. It was thin enough that it wouldn’t pinch when Joker moved his head, but also thick enough to not be mistaken for anything other than a collar. The clasp to put it on was hidden, allowing it to look completely unbroken when worn and more importantly, would be comfortable.

Joker’s fingers traced the collar.

“This seems a bit much for a first date, Mr. Wayne,” Joker said, his voice quiet now.

“I’ve been told I’m intense,” Bruce responded, watching as Joker marveled at the gift.

“Possessive, is probably the word they used,” Joker answered with a grin. His fingers found the small bat symbol Bruce had etched into the front. He looked at Bruce then, his smile faltering slightly. “You remind me of someone.”

“Someone good I hope,” Bruce responded as he moved a little closer.

Joker stayed at the wall, but his breathing quickened.

“The best,” Joker said.

“But they’re not around.” It wasn’t a question, and Bruce pushed forward.

“No.”

Another step.

“Then I guess you just have me. A boring billionaire who has no need for criminal informants but could use a date,” Bruce said as he was now only inches from Joker. Bruce reached up his free hand and cupped Joker’s jaw. He could feel Joker trembling now. “If you want me, that is.”

“ _Bats_?” Joker asked, his voice just as shaky.

“Call me Bruce,” Bruce said, pulling Joker’s face to him.

Bruce missed him. Nothing became clearer to him the moment their lips connected, and Joker let out that glorious whine of his. Bruce dropped the flowers and Joker dropped the velvet case as they desperately grabbed onto one another, their mouths opening, and tasting, and consuming the other. Bruce’s hands slipped down to Joker’s thighs and lifted him to pin Joker against the wall. Joker responded by tangling one hand into Bruce’s hair and his long legs wrapping around Bruce. Bruce growled as Joker’s teeth nipped at his lips and he could feel Joker shiver at the sound.

If there was ever any doubt in Joker’s mind who was trapping him against the wall, it was cleared with that sound. Bruce couldn’t find it in him to be ashamed of it. Not as Joker’s tongue slid past his teeth and Bruce’s chest eased for the first time in over a week. Or when Bruce’s fingers rested on Joker’s thighs, feeling the warm flesh beneath him. Or when he heard Joker moan his birth name for the first time.

They only parted when a polite cough caught their attention. They turned their heads, bodies still pressed against one another, to see Alfred standing there with a faint blush across his cheeks.

“I think it best if you two retreated to the manor, if this is to continue,” Alfred suggested. “It might draw less of a crowd.”

Bruce could see the small gathering of people around the streets who all paused to watch Bruce Wayne practically fondle a sex worker on the streets. A few even had their phones out, probably already broadcasting the video on the internet. Or selling pictures.

Joker’s laugh is what made Bruce finally move. They gathered the box and flowers, as they followed Alfred’s suggestion of getting off the streets. Joker continued to chuckle at their predicament as they got in the car, and Bruce effectively silenced him by kissing him. They kept everything above the waist while in the car, least they give Alfred a heart attack, but when they got to Bruce’s bedroom they didn’t hold back. The buttons to Bruce’s shirt when flying, as Joker ripped it off, and Bruce captured his mouth.

This time felt different than before. They each mapped each other’s bodies like new lovers, and Joker wouldn’t stop touching Bruce’s face. As though he couldn’t believe it. And Bruce held still each time, worried Joker would change his mind until Joker would pull him in for more.

By morning, Joker was wearing the collar, and Bruce couldn’t stop smiling.


End file.
